Hogwartvengers Year I
by RandyKorn
Summary: What would it be like if the (movie)Avengers went to Hogwarts? Well, I'll take you through their first year, where craziness, comedy, angst, and action abound! A Harry Potter/Avengers crossover fanfiction. Takes place a few years after the HP novels. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter I - Miranda

**Note: Miranda Callahan is an OC, and this is probably one of the only chapters that you'll see in her POV. The VAST majority of the story will be through the Avengers' POVs. **

**I do not own either JK's wonderful world or the Marvel Universe.**

Miranda sat on the hardwood floor in the corner of the minuscule room that passed as a sleeping quarters for five foster children, including herself. She was reading a book - _Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury - but was failing to move past a certain sentence. She'd read it, what, five times over now?

She sighed and closed the book, mentally noting her current page number. She moved to close the window, where the shrieks of her "brothers and sisters" were cascading up from the backyard, disrupting her concentration.

Their caretaker, Miss Jenny, insisted on her charges calling each other siblings. In her words, "We are a family, not by blood, but by choice."

Yeah, _right._

She slammed the window shut with a resounding _thud._ She winced slightly at the loud noise, and at the suddenness of the quiet that followed it. _Finally, some peace _she thought to herself, sitting back down in her corner and resuming her novel.

She had only read a paragraph further, however, when she heard the distinctive _clip clop_ of Miss Jenny's high heeled boots making their way up the steps. "Miranda, honey?" Miss Jenny's sickly sweet voice emitted from the hallway.

Miranda made a slight grunting noise to indicate her presence, and reluctantly shut her book, moving to stand up. Miss Jenny walked into the small room and took a quick look around before spotting Miranda in the corner, wedged behind the bed.

"What are you doing back there, sweetie?" She asked, frowning slightly.

Miranda supposed that anyone who first met Miss Jenny would think that she was beautiful. The woman took meticulous care of herself - buying into the latest fashions, carefully applying makeup every morning, never having a hair out of place. She was tall, slim, and her skin shinned with a brilliance that could only be attributed to great genetics.

She was, however, one of the ugliest people that Miranda had had the misfortune of meeting in her life.

"I'm reading," Miranda said simply, holding up _Fahrenheit_ as evidence.

"Well, we'll just have to change that now, won't we?" Miss Jenny smiled sweetly and strode over, plucking the book from Miranda's hands. "Can't have any naughty ideas entering your precious little head, can we?" She patted Miranda on the head, and it took all of her willpower not to bite those perfect little nails as they danced above her head.

"Now how many books have I confiscated so far this week?" Miss Jenny put a finger to her lips, pretending to count. Miranda kept silent, knowing full well what was coming next. "Ah, that's right! This makes the third in a row, which means three more nights without dinner." She _tut-tutted_ at Miranda, saying "You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you, sweetie?"

A small growling noise escaped Miranda's throat, but she quickly tried to stifle the noise, knowing that it would only make matters worse.

Miss Jenny shrugged her shoulders, making the fabric of her dress ruffle. "I really don't enjoy punishing you, Miranda, but you bring it upon yourself." Miranda snorted softly, but otherwise didn't move a muscle.

She'd learned that the less movement you made, the less threat you seemed to pose. And that avoiding eye contact in arguments was generally a good idea. It made the other person think that they had won. In theory, anyway. The method really hadn't seemed to help her record for trouble in recent years, but it made her feel better all the same.

"And this-" Miss Jenny flashed what looked like a slightly battered, opened brown envelope, "-needs to cease. I really don't know what your goal is by sending these, but this is the fifth in two days. If any more come, I may be forced to use harsher punishment methods, sweetie, and you know I don't want to do that."

Miranda swallowed slightly, not moving a muscle and hoping that Miss Jenny would leave her alone. Thankfully, after a few seconds of staring, she spun around on her heels and left the room. Miranda waited for the _clip clop_ sounds to recede down the stairs before she let herself breathe again, collapsing back to the floor.

She curled up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her head. She didn't cry, but she came close.

Three more nights without dinner. She would have to sneak down to the pantry tonight or tomorrow and steal some food - which came with all sorts of nasty repercussions if she was caught by anyone.

She sighed and stood up again, moving to reopen the window. No use keeping the noise out any longer, she supposed...

"_Miranda Callahan!"_

Miranda jumped as the sharp screech pierced the air, and she accidentally slammed the window shut again.

"_Get down here this instant!"_ Miranda could feel Miss Jenny's anger radiating up from the first floor. She frowned, growing irritated. _What could _possibly_ be wrong now?_

She slid down the stairs silently in socked feet, peeking around the banister to see Miss Jenny standing at the front door, holding another brown envelope. She turned around to see Miranda, and her eyes grew livid.

She felt herself shrink back slightly, but held her ground as Miss Jenny began yelling. "Didn't I _just_ warn you about this kind of foolishness? _This behavior must cease._" She was annunciating every word by jabbing an index finger in my direction.

Miranda felt every instinct tell her to keep quiet, to wait out the yelling, but she could feel her mouth open and words tumble forth against her will.

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about!"

She realized her mistake instantly, as Miss Jenny's nostrils flared and her eyes began to shine with a dangerous sheen. She stepped closer to Miranda, her fist closing on the letter, crumpling it.

"Oh, don't play stupid with me. They warned me that taking you in was a bad idea, that you were more trouble than you were worth, but I didn't listen to them. And you repay my kindness with - with this _rubbish._" She roughly pushed the crumpled envelope against Miranda's chest and slapped her face.

Miranda could feel the skin of her cheek slice open from Miss Jenny's rings. She cried out in pain, and fell back against the wall. A smile slowly grew on Miss Jenny's face, and Miranda felt her stomach sink. "I think it's time for a stay in the attic, don't you?"

Before Miranda could begin to protest, Miss Jenny had seized her by the upper arm and was pulling her roughly up the stairs. She pulled open the hatch to the attic and pushed Miranda up, closing and locking the door behind her.

She found herself sitting in near darkness, the only light coming from a small window on one side of the room. She looked around, re-familiarizing herself with the layout.

The room was mostly empty, containing only a small blanket with more holes than fabric, a bottle of water that was probably months old, and a flashlight whose batteries had probably expired years ago. Long before she'd come here, anyway.

She took stock of what she had on her - no telling how long she'd be stuck up in this miserable place. She had her pouch of emergency food around her neck, and her mother's necklace, as always. So she'd be able to stay up here for a while without too much trouble, at least.

Miranda was surprised to discover, however, that she was still holding the crumpled envelope. Well, maybe figuring out what the hell had gotten Miss Jenny so angry would alleviate some of the boredom that would soon settle upon Miranda.

She'd only been put in the attic once before in her two months of staying here, and that was because the pizza had caught on fire in the middle of dinner. Things had an unfortunate habit of spontaneously combusting around her, but no one would believe that she had _nothing _to do with it_._ So she'd spent two long, boring nights up here to "repent" or whatever.

But at least this time she had something to occupy a bit of time - the stupid letter. She moved under the window, sitting down on the dusty floor.

Time to find out what this thing was.

She slowly un-crumpled the envelope, seeing her name written in large, fancy handwriting. The sender's information, however, was definitely more interesting.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Okay. That one was new.

She peeled open the envelope, which was sealed with some kind of wax. _Definitely odd._ She pulled out two pieces of what felt like ... Parchment? She began reading, and chills started dancing down her back, despite the fact that it was probably close to 85 degrees in the attic.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Jonas Snixley

Order of Merlin, First Class, Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump

Dear Miranda Callahan,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Doris Umbridge

Deputy Headmistress

Questions were flying across Miranda's mind at what felt like millions of miles per hour. Was this a joke? What if it wasn't a joke? What was a mugwump? What did it mean by "We await your owl?"

She shook her head and looked at the second piece of parchment, hoping for some answers, but finding only more questions. There was a list of uniform requirements, books, and other equipment.

Okay. Weirder by the minute.

Honestly, she'd been expecting some stupid bill from the social worker or something, but not anything like this. What kind of hoax was this, anyway?

Because it had to be a prank, some stupid idea one of the other kids had thought of to get her in trouble. There was _no way_ that this could be real.

Right?

But even as part of her brain was trying to deny it, trying to insist that magic couldn't be _real, _memories kept popping up before her eyes. That one time the tree had exploded when a bully named Vance had pushed her face first into a pile of mud. When she had broken her arm playing football with the other kids in the house, and the arm had miraculously healed in front of everyone. Just a few weeks ago, when her "brother" Robert had tried to take her book, and his shoes turned into garden snakes...which, much to Miranda's delight at the time, had caused him to pee his pants.

Plus there was the fact that things tended to catch on fire whenever she was around...

Every time one of these "events" (as the social workers liked to put it) happened, the kids all shunned her, calling her names like _freak_. And if the adults happened to see, then they usually deemed her a _devil's child_ before shipping her off to the next home.

When she was younger, she hadn't understood why everyone seemed to hate her. It wasn't her fault that things always happened around her. But for the past few years she'd given up on fitting in, isolating herself with books before she could be hurt.

Which really didn't stop weird things from happening around her, but it made things a bit easier when she was thrown out yet again.

She rested her head against the wall and smiled. There would definitely be plenty to think about, now, and a part of her grew warm at the thought of this Hogwarts. Maybe she wasn't a jinxed freak. Maybe she was just different.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a whole school of different kids, just like her.


	2. Chapter II - Clint

**Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm going to try to update at least twice a week for you guys!**

"Clint, we've talked about this. You need to _practice._"

The Swordsman's voice was gentle and firm, but his face revealed the slight anger that he was feeling. Clint glowered up at him from where he was crouched in the dirt area that was their current target field. "I _have_ been practicing. It's not my fault that the wind picked that particular moment to blow."

The Swordsman shook his head slowly, and Clint could feel the disappointment radiating off of him in waves. "You need to be prepared for the unexpected, Clint. The world is a harsh place, and it will run you over without a second thought if you let it." He sighed deeply, then grinned down at Clint. "That's enough for today, I suppose. We must prepare for tonight's show, after all."

Clint nodded and went to collect his arrows from the various targets set up in the circular area. All in all, he had only missed once, and that was because of the damned gust of wind. He had to pull every other arrow out of the red bulls-eyes.

He packed his quiver and swung his bow over his shoulder, slowly trudging back to the small corner of the circus that he called home. He looked up into the sky, watching the clouds float listlessly through the blue. There were an awful lot of owls up there, too, it still being mid afternoon and all...How he wished that he could be up there with them, free from all of this...

Not that his life was bad, he supposed, as he came upon the small trailer that he shared with his brother. There were probably billions of kids who wished that they could join the circus, who wished that they could live a life free of parents at the age of eleven. Barney was two years his elder, and they were pretty much on their own in the world.

And he loved it, most days. He could eat leftover cotton candy and drink soda all day long, lounge around in his underwear on off days. Whatever he wanted, really.

Today just seemed weird for some reason. He felt like he was trapped here, like there was something bigger that he was meant for.

He felt like he needed to _fly._

He grunted hello to Barney and put his bow and arrows down on the couch that doubled as his bed. He'd clean it up later. If he felt like it, anyways.

Which, honestly, wasn't very likely.

"Yo, runt. You'd better put your costume on, Ringmaster's called for an early run through before tonight," Barney's voice called out from the single bedroom. Clint rolled his eyes and groaned, but put grabbed his crumpled, ridiculous outfit from off the floor. He went into the bathroom to change, sighing as he slipped on the stupid purple tights and mask.

He looked ridiculous, and he hated it.

But it was what the audience loved, so here he was, looking like he'd been mugged by a rainbow. Still, he supposed it was better than Barney.

He exited the bathroom and spied his brother sprawled on his bed, slowly sipping a beer and watching some Spanish soap opera. "What are _you_ lookin' at, Tutti Fruity?" his brother sneered. "Go do your circus freak thing, man."

Clint frowned at him from where he stood in the threshold of the bedroom. "It's not my fault that the Swordsman wanted to teach me, you know."

Barney chucked the empty beer can at him, and ducked, easily dodging the projectile. "Shut up, ya runt. Who'd want to be a purple freak, anyways? It's much more respectable to be a janitor in this damn place."

Clint shrugged and left the trailer, letting the door shut quietly behind him. He was used to Barney's moods by now. He got like this sometimes, especially when Clint was busy practicing archery with Swordsman. Or when there was booze involved.

Even though Barney was only thirteen, he could hold his alcohol. He wasn't a heavy drinker - not by circus standards anyway, but for a thirteen year old...Whenever Clint brought it up, Barney would just tell him to mind his own business. Or to go stick an arrow up his ass, if he was in a more colorful mood.

Clint made his way to the main tent, noticing how the clouds overhead were starting to turn an ominous shade of grey. Hopefully they wouldn't have to cancel tonight's show...

He joined the crowd with the other performers, looking for Swordsman. He wanted to see if he could maybe get in some more practice after the show tonight...but Swordsman was nowhere to be seen.

Clint listened as the Ringmaster gave the same speech as he always did. Give the crowd the ol' razzle-dazzle, be safe, be bold, yada yada yada...he zoned out and started moving through the crowd, looking for his master.

He heard the Ringmaster list out acts that he wanted to double check, and was thankful that his wasn't on the list. They still had an hour before people would start arriving, and as much as Clint wanted out of this ridiculous outfit, he couldn't really justify it. He'd just have to change back into it in a few minutes...

He hung backstage until the audience filled up, their smalltalk filling the tent. Eventually, the lights dimmed and the Ringmaster took the stage in a puff of smoke and a _BANG!_

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" his voice echoed throughout the tent as the audience clapped. "Welcome to the Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonder!" The audience clapped again, but Clint was distracted from the show when he felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder. He looked up to see Swordsman there, smiling down at him.

"Showtime, boy," he said as their cue came, and the performers all lapped the rings in time to introductions and smaller versions of their acts. Clint ran behind the Swordsman as his assistant, but they didn't do anything too special. Their real time came later on, after the acrobats.

Clint sat down on the floor backstage, out of the way of the other performers. He saw Swordsman go over to talk to the others, but Clint was more interested in watching the show. Clowns and strongmen, fire breathers and contortionists. And the acrobats.

He always loved the acrobats, how they soared through the air seemingly effortlessly. Flips and jumps and gasps from the audience. It was the best act, in his opinion. How they could be so high up in the air, defying gravity, _free-_

The audience clapped, and Clint stood up, the Swordsman's swords in hand.. It was their turn. He started to walk out before realizing that something was wrong.

Where was Swordsman?

He looked around backstage quickly, but couldn't find his master. The other performers were looking just as perplexed and worried. Someone must have told the Ringmaster of the problem through their wireless headset, because Clint heard his voice ring throughout the tent. "Our resident Swordsman seems to have vanished, ladies and gentlemen. I wonder who could have done that? Could it perhaps have been...the Magician?"

He had moved on to the next act. Clint frowned, and he felt one of the clowns pat him on the shoulder. He put the swords back in the props closet, slightly upset at not being able to perform. Although, he supposed that the less people to see him in this stupid costume, the better...

He walked out of the tent using the back exit and went to look for his master. Something must have happened to make him miss the show, and Clint wanted to see if he could help in any way.

He jogged to the Swordsman's trailer, in the darkness, the silence broken only by periodic applause coming from the main tent. The clouds above were black and ominous, and Clint could feel the ground shake slightly as thunder grumbled overhead.

He made it to the Swordsman's trailer as the first raindrops were beginning to fall, and he knocked lightly on the aluminum door. "Swordsman? Is everything okay? Why did you miss the show?"

Clint heard a rough grunt from inside, and he opened the door just as the Swordsman's voice called out sharply "Go away, boy!"

Clint stood in the doorway, frozen from the sight that greeted him.

The Swordsman was standing in front of a duffle bag overflowing with money. "I-Is that...?" Clint heard himself mutter weakly.

"Ah, boy. I wish you hadn't seen this." The Swordsman sighed and shook his head softly, bending down to grab the sword that was lying on the ground.

W-Was that...there was something dark red crusted on the sword's edges, and Clint heard himself gulp. Blood? Had his master _killed_ someone?

"Y-You..." Clint felt his eyes dart from the sword to the man holding it, meeting his eyes. "Police...I have to tell-"

He saw his master advancing towards him, but he felt frozen in place, his mind working at a thousand miles an hour but his body at zero.

All that money...it must have been from the safe. That's why Swordsman hadn't been backstage, why he had missed his performance. He'd been stealing from the circus. And from the look of the...blood...on that sword, someone had seen.

Like Clint was seeing now.

_Move. I have to move!_

He ran, planning to go to the main tent. There were a few security guards there, they could help. He jumped down the metal stairs, landing on the ground. He could hear the Swordsman behind him, the door banging open roughly.

Clint took a few steps, barely able to see from the rain. He could hear the thunder overhead, and the world flashed into focus for a second - lightning.

That was when it all went wrong.

As soon as he put his foot down, he knew he'd made a mistake. All of the rain had made the solid dirt paths turn into thick, slippery mud. And unfortunately for Clint, his costume shoes had very little traction.

He felt himself slipping, his upper body shooting forward as his legs fell out from underneath him.

He met the ground his a wet _squelch_, the mud sticking to his front, making it difficult for him to get to his feet. He rolled over quickly, trying to run again, but it was too late.

The Swordsman's heavy foot connected with his stomach, and Clint's lungs emptied with a soft _whoosh._ He curled up on himself, covering his head with his hands as he felt more vicious kicks connect.

"Sorry, Clint, but I can't have you running to the cops now, can I? You're just going to have to-"

When the Swordsman stopped talking, Clint assumed it was because he had either died or lost consciousness. But, no. He wouldn't be in this much pain if that had happened...he felt his mind go fuzzy for a few seconds, but thought he heard someone shouting very loudly. He wished they'd be quiet for a few seconds, Clint had to concentrate, had to tell someone...

He felt hands on his shoulders, prying him upwards. He opened his eyes to see the bright yellow hood of a raincoat, but everything else seemed to be fuzzy. Whether that was the rain water and mud in his eyes or something was wrong with his head, he wasn't sure.

"It's alright, you're okay, it's okay now..." he could hear a soft voice muttering repetitively. The hands were holding him upright, and he felt himself go dizzy for a few seconds. Everything was swirling before his eyes, and he had to close them for a few seconds or risk upchucking all over the yellow raincoat person.

He blinked a few times and his vision slowly cleared. He saw that the yellow raincoat was being worn by a small girl with bright green eyes and short, roughly chopped brown hair.

He saw her mouth move and she was blinking at him worriedly. It took him a few seconds before he realized that she'd asked him a question. "Sorry, what?" he muttered, wincing internally at how weak his voice sounded.

"I asked if you were okay, but it seems like a stupid question in hindsight. Can you stand?" Clint nodded. Most of the kicks had hit his arms and shins, and he could feel the bruises forming as he sat there.

The girl helped him stand, and they moved to stand under an overhang that belonged to a closed ticket booth. Out of the rain, Clint leaned against the wooden wall and looked in awe at the scene before him.

There was a massive man with a long, unruly beard chasing the Swordsman around with a pink umbrella. Was that...there seemed to be lightning bolts coming from the umbrella's tip, the large man bellowing incoherently in anger.

_So this is what it feels like to be drunk._

He looked over at the girl standing beside him. "Have I gone insane or something?"

She shook her head slowly and shrugged. "Maybe. You're Clinton, right?" He nodded slowly, wondering how in the hell this kid knew his name. "I'm Miranda, and that-" she pointed to the large angry man "-is Hagrid."

"Shouldn't we, uh, help him or something?" Clint asked.

The girl - Miranda - just shook her head. "I think he's got it under control..."

Clint watched as the Swordsman swung at Hagrid, who grabbed the sword with one hand, flinging it away into the storm, while jabbing the Swordsman with the umbrella. Hagrid seemed to give up with his lightning bolts as he punched the Swordsman right in the jaw with a massive fist. He flew a solid ten feet before hitting the ground with a _thud_ that Clint could hear over the thunder.

Yup. He definitely had it under control

"What's...who _are_ you people?"

Miranda looked at him curiously, "Didn't you get your letter?" He was about to ask what in the world she was talking about when he saw the giant man stomping closer. He appeared to be growling. Lovely.

"Clinton Barton?" Yup. Definitely an angry growl. Clint nodded slowly, gulping. Call him crazy, but he would have rather gone in front of that audience butt naked than have to deal with whoever this guy was. He pressed himself further back against the wall as the man's arm extended, afraid that he had just been pulled from the pan only to be dumped into the fire.

To his surprise and relief, however, Clint found himself being patted gently on the head, rather than being bruised and bloodied further. He felt his muscles relax slightly, although he had been unaware of how tense he had been.

"Sorry abou' tha'. Yeh're Clinton, right? Didn' get yer letter, I suppose?" Clint was staring up at the large man, Hagrid. His long beard had strands of grey threading through it, but if that fight was any indication, he still had a lot of strength left in him.

"Okay, thank you for stopping him from killing me and everything." Wow, that was a loaded sentence...he could have been _dead_ right now. "But who _are_ you and what is this letter you guys keep talking about?"

Hagrid grinned down at him, and his eyes twinkled in the darkness. "Yer a wizard, Clinton."

Okay. Nope. It was official, he'd gone insane. He felt himself begin to slip sideways as his vision blurred again, and he succumbed to the darkness and the relief it brought from the pain and craziness.


	3. Chapter III - Phil

**Note: Thank you again to all who reviewed and read!**

Phil felt his mouth drop and his eyes pop open as the brick wall in front of him slid apart, revealing Diagon Alley.

He'd been here before on a few occasions, but not since he was little. He had half memories of sweet ice cream and walls covered in different types of wands. Now, though...

It was all laid out before him. Piles of books and scrolls, barrels of firecrackers and what looked like oozing brains, the sweet, mouthwatering smell of ice cream that brought him back to those few childhood trips...

He ran to the nearest shop and eagerly pressed his face against the window. Inside he saw dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, barrels of roots and seeds, and jars of what looked like body parts lining the many shelves on the walls. "Cool! Mom, I found the Apothecary shop! Look, is that an eye-"

"Phil, we can window shop later. We need to go to Gringotts first, you know that." Phil turned his head to look behind him, watching as his mother looked nervously at the many passersby on the cobblestoned street. "Hurry up, now, come on. We don't have all day, you know." She grabbed his hand and they were off, hurrying through the crowds.

Phil let himself be pulled along, too busy looking around to bother pulling his hand out of his mother's grasp. There were owls in that shop, and was that a kid with a cauldron? There was Ollivander's Wand Shop! And he spied Flourish and Blotts over there on the right, and-

His mother stopped dragging him, and Phil almost plowed right into her before managing stop. He looked ahead at the massive white building, which somehow felt bigger than any other building in the Alley.

They climbed the steps, and Phil noticed some words etched into the building above the door. "What's _Fortius Quo Fidelius?"_ he asked, not really expecting an answer.

To his surprise, however, his mother pursed her lips and muttered "Strength through loyalty. It's Latin, their motto of sorts."

He was about to ask whose motto, but the question died on his lips as they entered the bank.

_Goblins_.

There were two flanking the doors, wearing a scarlet and gold uniform. _Gryffindor colors?_ He thought that was kind of weird, but then he supposed that guards would have to be brave, right?

They made their way through a fancy marble hall, and came upon a set of silver doors. There was something engraved here, too, but his mom had opened them and was heading through before he could read it.

Inside was a massive room full of desks and lanterns, with countless goblins running about, either leading people down hallways or carrying large stacks of paperwork around. He caught up to his mother, who was talking with a stout, dark brown goblin. He bowed to his mother, and started to lead her to one of the many halls adjoining the large room.

Phil followed his mother, who sat down tensely in a cart. The goblin silently pushed them off, and Phil was soon lost in an underground maze. The tunnels were lit with numerous torches, and they made so many turns in the first few seconds that Phil knew he'd never be able to find his way out without the goblin as a guide.

They finally jerked to a stop outside a small wooden door, and the goblin announced "Coulson Vault. Number 549."

Phil and his mother hopped out, and his mother took a small brass key out of her purse. She opened the door, and inside Phil saw decently-sized piles of gold and silver coins. "I didn't know we had all of this," he remarked as his mother scooped up a few handfuls of coins, dropping them into her purse.

"It was your father's. I figured, after..." she trailed off, clearing her throat slightly. "Well, I figured we'd save whatever was in here for your school funds."

Phil glanced around at all of the gold and silver, more than he had ever seen in one place before. "But, Mom...this could really help-"

She shook her head and pushed him gently out the door, locking it behind her. "You don't need to worry about any of that, Phil. You need to focus on your education."

Phil frowned, but nodded. He supposed it was probably hard for his mom, raising him on his own all these years. His father had died in a freak accident at the Ministry when Phil was only five, and he didn't remember much of him.

He knew that his mom had trouble paying the bills sometimes, but surely there was enough money here to cover his school materials and the bills...? Although, if his mother's body language was anything to go by, she really didn't like being here much.

She probably felt out of her element, being a muggle and all.

They made their way back to the surface, where they bought Phil's school books, his robes, and many quills and pieces of parchment. He'd even gotten his mom to stop by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where she finally gave in and bought him a few extendable ears. He'd tried getting a few firecrackers, but that attempt had been shut down pretty quickly...

He'd tried catching a glimpse of George Weasley, but to no avail. He must have been busy inventing some new magical treat or something.

Finally, though, they made their way to Ollivander's.

He had a vague memory of going there with his father when he was younger, of the walls being covered with thousands of wands, of everything being bright and shiny, exciting.

They entered the shop, which was surprisingly empty. Phil knew that they were a bit early, getting a head start on the school shopping rush, but still. He had expected at least a few other people.

The other disappointment was the shop itself. Gone were the glittering wands that he remembered. Gone was the magic in the air.

There was a thin coat of dust that covered everything, including the floor, and the place felt about as magical as dryer lint. There weren't magical, beautiful wands flying from wall to wall, but instead there were many small boxes, completely wallpapering the room.

As a small young man came out from the back of the store, Phil couldn't help but wonder if the store had always been like this, and his childhood memory had simply made it all seem so much more glorious than the reality.

He pushed all of that aside, however, as the young man reached forward to shake his hand. "My name is Olli, Olli Ollivander, and who might you be?"

"Phil Coulson, sir," he replied.

"Ah, getting a head start on your shopping are we?" the man asked with a small wink. He shook his mother's hand as well before saying, "Well, let's get started then, shall we?"

Mister Olli waved a wand of his own, and several boxes opened, wands zooming forth to hover in front of Phil. "Cherry and Unicorn Tail, seven inches this one, give it a try!" Almost immediately after grabbing onto it, however, Olli whisked it away, muttering "No, no, not right at all. Let's try the Walnut and Phoenix feather..."

Phil felt like he had touched every wand in the shop before he grabbed a medium length, pale wand. He immediately felt a warmth crawl up his arm, and he felt his eyes grow wide in shock. "Yes, yes, that's the one right there. You felt it didn't you? You felt it choose you." Phil nodded in understanding, and Olli went on. "Pear with Unicorn hair it is, then. Very good wand, very good."

Phil looked down at his wand, smiling with pride. He met his mother's eyes, and saw that she was smiling widely. As they were leaving, she leaned down and hugged him tightly. "I'm so proud of you, my little wizard."

He felt his cheeks flush slightly and started fidgeting to cover up his embarrassment. "_Moooooom,"_ he groaned after a few seconds.

She let go with a sigh and ruffled his hair lightly. "Sorry, sorry. It's just all so exciting. My little boy, going off to Hogwarts like his father..." She smiled wistfully, and Phil wondered, not for the first time, if his mother ever wished that she was magical as well. If she ever wanted to have a wand choose her and board the train to Hogwarts.

Just then, however, Phil spotted a large man moving through the general crowds toward them. "_Mom._ Mom, look! That's Hagrid! _Rubeus Hagrid._ Mom, can I go - go ask for his autograph or something? _Please,_ Mom? I have to meet him!"

His mother looked at the man doubtfully. "I don't know, Phil. Doesn't he seem awfully...large?"

Phil shook his head quickly. "I've read all about him, Mom. He fought in the Second Wizard War, was friends with _Harry Potter!_ He's, like, famous!" She still looked doubtful, and Phil gave her his best puppy-dog look. "_Please?"_

She sighed, but nodded in agreement. "It looks like he's headed over here, anyway..."

Phil watched as Hagrid made his way slowly over, and there appeared to be two kids around his age with him. He felt his mother put a hand on his shoulder, and it wasn't until that moment that he realized he had been bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Hagrid came up to Ollivander's, and gently pushed the two kids into the store, saying "In yeh go, now. Good ol' Olli'll take care o' yeh, don' worry."

Phil stared up at the huge man in awe for several seconds before he heard his mother clear her throat and watched as she stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Hello, I'm Lucy Coulson, and this is my son Phil."

Hagrid grinned, and Phil saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Good ter meet yeh, Mrs. Coulson! Yeh must be Mark's wife, then?" Phil saw his mom's smile falter somewhat, and Hagrid grew quieter. "Ah, sorry. I didn' mean ter...he was a good man, a great one." Hagrid patted her shoulder awkwardly before turning his attention to Phil.

"An' yeh must be Phillip!" He shook his hand, and Phil could feel his cheeks flush with excitement. He was talking to Rubeus Hagrid. He was shaking his _hand._

"I-I..." Phil stuttered, unable to think straight. He'd spent most of his childhood reading up on famous witches and wizards, knowing that one day he's be able to enter that world and meet them. And now that it was happening, now that he was meeting one of his heros in the flesh, he couldn't even stutter out a simple hello.

He saw a bemused smile spread across his mother's face. "I think he means to say that he really admires you, Mister Hagrid. He's probably read every book about the Order that was ever written." Phil felt his cheeks grow hot. His mom made it sound so _dorky._ Hagrid would probably think he was some wannabe kid now...

But, instead, Hagrid's smile grew wider. "Good to know yeh're takin' an interest in history. Yeh're a firs' year, right?" Phil nodded slowly. "Got yer wand yet?"

Phil nodded again and pulled his wand out of his pocket. "I-It's a pear wood with unicorn hair core." Hagrid was nodding and smiling, and Phil felt a sense of wonderment sweep over him.

It was really happening, he was really going to enter the wizarding world.

"Ah, here come me two now." Hagrid smiled down at a small girl and a rough looking boy as they came out of Ollivander's. "Tha' was fast, yeh two."

The boy shrugged, holding up his wand for Hagrid to see. "Maple with a phoenix feather core." He glanced over at Phil, and he saw several bruises on the boy's face. His mother must have noticed, too, because she was glaring up at Hagrid with hatred and disgust in her eyes.

"You...you should be _ashamed._ Doing that to a _child._" His mom was tiny compared to Hagrid, coming up only to his elbow, but the large man shrank back.

"No, no, yeh're gettin' the wrong idea..." Several people on the street were looking over curiously, and Phil wished, not for the first or last time in his life, that his mother didn't have such a loud, commanding yell.

The other boy looked confused for a few seconds before speaking up and moving between Phil's mother and Hagrid. "No, he's not the one who did this to me, that was someone else."

"Hagrid's the one that saved Clint," the small girl spoke up, and Phil jumped slightly. She had moved to stand beside him without his noticing.

Hagrid was nodding quickly, looking scared out of his wits. The anger deflated out of his mother, and Phil saw Hagrid glance gratefully to the two other kids. "Oh, I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean...I thought...I apologize!"

Hagrid waved off her apology, seeming grateful that she had stopped yelling at him. "It's okay, I understand. Truth be told, me reaction was even worse..." He shook his head roughly, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Anyway, this here is Clint, an' tha' there is Miranda."

Phil held out his hand to the girl beside him, but she just stared at it distrustfully. Phil almost retracted it before she suddenly reached out and gripped it. "Good to meet you," he grinned at her. She managed a small smile in return.

Clint gripped his hand hard and pumped it up and down with gusto. "My name is Phil, by the way," he said, glancing at both Clint and Miranda. "And that's my mom."

"She's kinda scary," he heard Miranda whisper lightly. Luckily, too lightly to hear over his mother still apologizing to Hagrid.

"You have _no_ idea," he whispered back. There was an awkward pause before Phil asked "So what kind of wand picked you, Miranda?"

She blushed lightly. "Willow with a dragon heartstring core," she paused. "And you?"

"Pear with unicorn hair," he declared proudly.

Clint opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Hagrid. "All righ' yeh two. Time ter get yeh robes!"

"See you guys on the train?" Phil asked hesitantly, and they both nodded, although Clint looked hesitant. As they walked away, Phil could hear him asking loudly "There's a _train?_ I thought you said wizards could _fly."_

His mother was still flushed slightly as they walked out of Diagon Alley and back into the Leaky Cauldron. Phil had a few of his books and his wand, but his mother had arranged for everything else to be shipped to their house before the school year started.

Shipped by _owls._

This was it. It was really happening.

He was really going to Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter IV - Natasha

**Note: Thanks again for the reviews! They're much appreciated!**

She stood there, motionless, as the crowd of students and families surged around her. She had already bid farewell to Petrovitch, her father in every way except by blood. He had taken the floo network with her to Kings Cross, and they had exchanged good byes and good lucks before she went through the brick wall to Platform 9 3/4.

Now Natasha was standing there, listening to the train whistle blow, watching families hug their children before they ran aboard...she dragged her trunk towards the train, maneuvering around various witches and wizards as the train whistle blew again.

The train itself was beautiful, a giant red locomotive that looked both antique and brand new at the same time. Smoke was starting to stream from the front as the whistle blew for the third and final time.

Natasha joined the crowd of students running on before they were left behind, and found herself in a long corridor with doors on either side of her. She assumed that they led to compartments for the journey, as students were filling into them quickly.

Natasha slowly made her way down the corridor, looking for a compartment that was mostly empty. She opened a door at random, but there was already a crowd of students in it, ranging from upperclassmen to kids who appeared to be her own age.

Before she could close the door again, one of the older students called out roughly "Hey, girl! You wanna get me some Pumpkin Pasties from the trolley?"

Natasha frowned and slammed the door shut. Idiots.

It wasn't until she reached the end of the corridor that she finally found a compartment that was mostly empty. There was a girl who looked around her age, curled up in the corner reading what looked like a textbook, and two boys who were conversing about something.

She would have preferred having a compartment to herself, but this would have to do. The smaller boy with neatly combed brown hair looked up as she entered and said excitedly "Hello! You're welcome to join us if you want."

Natasha nodded absently and lifted her trunk into the storage compartments overhead. It was heavy, however, and she would have overbalanced and fallen if the boy hadn't moved quickly to help her.

They slid the trunk into place, and she muttered her thanks. "No problem," he grinned. "My name's Phil, that's Bruce," he pointed to the skinny boy with unruly black hair. "And that's Miranda," he said, pointing to the girl. "We're all first years."

She shook his hand as he pumped it enthusiastically. "My name is Natasha, also a first year."

Just as Phil opened his mouth to say something else, there was a knock at the window. From the outside of the train. That was traveling at who-knows-how-many miles per hour.

Natasha's mind went blank as the girl, Miranda, quickly shut her book and opened the window. A boy swung through, quietly landing on the floor in a crouch. His face was flushed, probably from the wind, and he appeared to have several healing bruises that ranged from light green to yellow on his face and arms.

"It's _great_ up there! You guys sure you don't want to try it?"

Everyone except Natasha nodded. "You...you went on top of the train?" she asked incredulously.

"He's kind of insane, don't mind him," Miranda said, picking up her book again but not opening it.

"I'm not _insane._ It's so free up there, all that space and wind..." the boy said, his eyes twinkling. "I bet it's _amazing_ at night." He seemed to notice Natasha for the first time and he stared at her for a few seconds before saying. "Oh. Who's this, then?"

_Bit rude._ "My name is Natasha Romanoff. And who are _you?"_

"Clint Barton. Why does your hair look like it's on fine?"

She could feel herself flush with anger. "It's not _on fire._ It's just red. That's my natural hair-" She broke off as Phil slapped the back of Clint's head.

"That was rude. Apologize to her." Clint frowned and glared at Phil, who glared back. After a few seconds, Clint sighed and stood up, holding out his hand.

"Sorry, 'Tasha," he muttered.

"It's Natasha, and it's fine, I suppose," she said, shaking his hand.

They sat down, and Clint started babbling about Hogwarts. "I really hope I'm not put in Slytherin. They put out more Dark wizards than any other house, you know. But then Gryffindor had Pettigrew, so I suppose House affiliation isn't really a good indicator...but I'm hoping for either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. What about you guys?"

"Ravenclaw," both Miranda and the other boy, Bruce, said immediately.

"Gryffindor!" Clint exclaimed, brandishing an invisible sword and swinging it around the compartment.

They turned to Natasha, waiting for her answer, but she paused. After a few seconds, she sighed. "I don't really know much about the houses."

"Oh, are you a muggle born?" Bruce asked.

She shook her head. "I'm a half-blood, but I'm from Russia. I was supposed to go to Durmstrang, but..." she shrugged. "Father wished for me to attend Hogwarts."

"Well, glad you're with us, then," Phil grinned. "Hogwarts sorts its students into four different houses. Gryffindor is for the brave and daring. Hufflepuff is for the kind and loyal. Ravenclaw values the intelligent and unique. And Slytherin values the cunning and resourceful."

Natasha paused slightly before speaking up. "I'd probably have to go with Slytherin, then."

"But they're _evil!"_ Clint exclaimed, a horrified look on his face.

Phil was shaking his head even before Clint was done speaking. "They're not all evil, they're just..." he stopped, seemingly at a loss of words.

It was Bruce who spoke up softly. "They're ambitious, and some will do anything for power. Which...usually causes them to turn to the Dark Arts."

"They didn't sound very nice when Hagrid was talking about them, anyways," Clint said, his nose wrinkling. "And you seem decent, not Slytherin-y."

Natasha thought he meant that as a compliment. Maybe. She nodded her thanks and shrugged, letting the subject drop. But she knew that Slytherin seemed...right to her, for some reason.

"Hey," Clint perked up, nose in the air. "I smell sweets."

"Probably the trolly," Bruce said.

Indeed, Natasha heard a sweet voice calling out through the corridor. "Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans! Only two sickles!"

Clint stood up and moved toward the door. "I don't know about you guys, but I want to see what magic sweets are like."

Miranda moved to follow him, and Phil and Bruce stood up as well. Natasha looked at Bruce as she stood, asking "You don't happen to have Kruffles here, do you?"

Bruce shook his head slowly. "Never heard of them. What are they like?"

"Heaven," she said simply, moving to look at the assortment of candies. She saw Phil buy three Chocolate Frogs to share with Miranda and Clint, because they didn't have any money. Bruce bought a Pumpkin Pastie, and Natasha decided to try a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"If you guys get Remus Lupin, could I have it? He's _really_ rare," she heard Phil ask Miranda and Clint, who both nodded.

They sat back down, and Natasha hesitantly popped a bright yellow jellybean in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, muttering "Daffodil..."

"Oh, hey. It's Hagrid!" Miranda exclaimed, looking at a small card that came from the Chocolate Frog package. She suddenly jerked in surprise, exclaiming "_It just moved!"_

Natasha snorted as Clint grabbed the card out of Miranda's hand, staring in awe. "Wizard pictures usually do that."

"That is _so cool._" Clint whispered as Hagrid's picture waved sheepishly at them.

"He looks a lot younger," Miranda said, taking the card back. She examined the back of the card, and she looked up at everyone a few seconds later. "He really did all of this? Order of the Phoenix, Battle of Hogwarts..."

Phil was nodding eagerly. "Hagrid's _amazing._ Did you know that he was framed and had to go to Azkaban until the Ministry figured out that he was innocent?"

"What's Azkaban?" Miranda asked, just as Clint looked up from his Chocolate Frog card.

"I got Lupin, Phil. He's the one you wanted, right?"

"_No way!_ Clint, jeez, you've got the best luck...here, do you want Hermione? You can start your own collection." Clint shrugged and they exchanged cards while Bruce was explaining what Azkaban was.

"It's the prison for wizards. They use creatures called Dementors to keep the prisoners there. I don't really know much about them, though..."

"They're not something you'd want to meet in a dark alley. Or in a sunny field, for that matter..." Natasha knew a bit about them because one of her father's hobbies was learning about the wizarding world's worst criminals. "I think they sort of suck the happiness out of you. Make your mind into a sort of living hell."

She saw everyone swallow roughly. "Okay. Not fun, then," Clint said.

They chatted amicably for a few more hours, talking about everything from Quidditch to the Second Wizarding War. It didn't seem like long before Natasha heard noise in the hallway, and their compartment door burst open to reveal a large upperclassman. "First years?" They all nodded, some more hesitant than others. "Okay, you'll want to get into your robes, we'll be at the station in a few minutes. Leave your luggage here and when you get off the train, find Hagrid. He's hard to miss, kind of looks like a fuzzy boulder. Lot nicer than a boulder, though..."

The door slowly shut as the upperclassman went to tell other kids to get changed. Everyone rummaged around in their trunks and threw on their robes. Natasha moved her wand from her jeans pocket, where it had been poking her side uncomfortable the entire ride, into the pocket of her cloak.

All the magic in the world, and girls' jean pockets still weren't big enough to hold anything more than a few sickles.

They soon felt the train slowing down, and everyone stood up, joining the crush of students in the corridor. The train came to a smooth stop, and the crowd of students began to push forward.

Natasha felt a wave of excitement flow through her body. They were _here._


	5. Chapter V - Bruce

**Note: Sorry, guys. I know you're all waiting for Tony, but if everything goes to plan he won't show up for a few more chapters. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait, though...In the meantime, here's some Bruce!**

Bruce pushed down a wave of nausea as he stepped off the train. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this...

For the entire duration of the train ride, he had been fighting against the urge to puke. He'd only eaten that Pumpkin Pastie because he'd thought it might calm him down a bit, but he was sorely regretting that decision as his stomach started doing gymnastic flips.

He heard a loud voice shouting "Firs' years this way! Firs' years over here!" When he looked toward the source of the voice, he felt his stomach give another unhappy, nervous jerk.

The man was _huge._

Bruce had thought, had hoped, that "fuzzy boulder" had been an exaggeration. But, no, the man standing to the side had a long, unruly, greying beard and was wearing rugged looking, brown clothing.

_This_ was the man who had taken care of Clint and Miranda for two weeks? His silent question was answered when they quickly moved toward the man, calling out his name happily while pushing through the crowd of upperclassmen.

Bruce moved to follow them nervously.

Honestly, it wasn't Hagrid who was making him so nervous. Clint and Miranda both seemed to like the man a lot, and Phil was singing his praises earlier on the train...

No, it was this _place_ that was causing Bruce's stomach to tie itself up in knots. He knew that was crazy. He was finally going to learn to control his magic, learn to become a proper wizard.

But if they ever learned about what he was-

His thoughts were broken off when he felt a hand on his elbow, pulling him along. "Dozing off there, Bruce?" Phil's smiling face looked back briefly as he pulled Bruce along after the rest of the students.

Bruce looked around as they made their way down a dirt path that wound through a thin stretch of woods. Everyone was stopped ahead, and Bruce could hear small gasps and mutterings coming from the students.

Phil broke through the cover of the trees and stopped dead in his tracks. Bruce walked up beside him and stood gaping in wonder at the sight in front of him.

The castle was huge, much bigger than he had ever imagined. There were turrets and towers everywhere, covered walkways and high, arching windows. The castle was backlit by a large crescent moon, and Bruce could clearly see the stars shining above the castle. It was all alight with candles and torches, and the flickering flames reflected on the rippling lake below as though in a dream.

It was beautiful.

"Alrigh', come on now! Four to a boat, four to a boat! Yeh'll be there soon enough, don' worry." Hagrid clapped his large hands to get the first years' attention, gesturing to the shore of the lake. There, Bruce spotted several rowboats with lanterns attached to the front, hanging out above the water. He and Phil hurried the rest of the way down, managing to find Miranda and snag an empty boat.

As they sat down, Miranda kept glancing over her shoulder at the castle. "It's so ... Magical."

"Well, it _is,_ Hogwarts," Bruce heard a voice purr from behind him. He craned his neck to see a petite girl with straight, strawberry blonde hair. She had a small nose and large brown eyes that seemed to be staring straight into his soul, and he could feel his cheeks growing warm.

She was even more beautiful than the castle.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, and everyone shook their heads, Miranda scooting over to make room. "My name's Victoire Weasley," she smiled as she sat down.

"Nice to meet you, Victoire. I'm Phil, this is Bruce, and that's Miranda," Phil smiled in return. Bruce gave an awkward wave before realizing that he was staring, and decided to look off the side of the boat.

He saw Hagrid move a slightly larger rowboat into the water and climb inside. It almost tipped over before he had himself balanced properly inside of it. "Ready, ev'ryone?" he called out, putting a pink umbrella into the water and pushing himself out further into the water.

Bruce felt their rowboat give a sudden lurch, and he held on to the side to keep himself steady. He heard a slight scraping sound as they moved across the sand, and then felt the boat sliding gently over the water.

He heard a soft _click_ and looked up to see Miranda pointing a camera at the castle. She turned back to face himself and Phil, saying "Smile!"

Bruce had just enough time to rearrange his face into something that he hoped resembled a smile before he heard another _click_ and a bright flash of light blinded him. He put a hand to his eyes and started blinking furiously as he heard a few more _clicks._

"Where did you get that thing?" he heard Phil ask.

"Hagrid got it for me in Diagon Alley. He saw me looking at it and..." Bruce though he saw her flush slightly, but that might have just been because his eyes were still messed up. "He got Clint a bow and some arrows, too." She paused for a second before asking. "Hey, do you think there's a way to make the pictures move like on the Chocolate Frog card?"

"If you got it in Diagon Alley, then the pictures might already move when you print them out," Victoire said.

"How are you gonna print them out, though?" Phil asked.

"I'm sure there are instructions in the box. Assuming Hagrid _kept_ the instructions, anyway..." Miranda mumbled.

"We'll figure it out, don't worry," Victoire smiled at Miranda, who smiled gratefully in return. There was a pause in the conversation, and Bruce tried desperately to think of something to say. Luckily, Phil came to the rescue.

"So, you're a Weasley, huh? That must be pretty cool, your family being famous and all," Phil said.

Victoire just shrugged. "We're not that famous, although my dad has his and Mom's Chocolate Frog cards framed in the living room..." She snorted lightly and shrugged again. "We're just normal."

Bruce opened his mouth and words came tumbling out before he could think better of it. "Well I think it's pretty cool, what your parents did. Fighting against Voldemort, I mean. My parents-" He cut himself off and looked abruptly into the water, wishing that he hadn't spoken.

"Did they not fight? There's nothing wrong with that, Bruce," he heard Phil's voice mutter. "Lots of wizards didn't fight."

Bruce grunted and kept looking at the water, which looked black and inky in the light of the lanterns. It wasn't that they hadn't fought, it was that they had fought on the wrong side. They had been Slytherin to the core, power hungry and eager for Voldemort's rule, if his father's ramblings about the past were anything to go by. His parents hadn't been Death Eaters, but they had definitely been into the Dark Arts. They probably still were, if he was honest about it.

But he couldn't let these guys know about that, know about anything. Bruce felt his stomach clench up all over again at the thought of anyone finding out about him or his family. There were just so many secrets that he had to keep, he was insane for coming here, he was-

His thoughts were cut off as Miranda gave a slight gasp. "I think I just saw a tentacle!" She turned to look at the others, wide-eyed, as the boat continued crossing the lake, well over halfway now.

"There's a giant squid down there, I think," Victoire said, and Phil nodded in agreement. Miranda continued to look into the water in wonder, and the others made small talk for the rest of the boat ride. But Bruce was too busy trying to keep himself from losing everything in his stomach to participate in the conversation much.

They finally made it to the castle dock, where Bruce saw a tall, stern looking woman waiting for them. She nodded to Hagrid as he climbed out of the boat, and waited for the students to clamber out after him.

When they were all standing on the dock in a clump, the stern woman began to speak quickly and crisply. "Hello, first years. My name is Doris Umbridge, your Potions Professor and Deputy Headmistress. I'd like to officially welcome you to Hogwarts."


	6. Chapter VI - Loki

******Thanks for reading and reviewing, it's much appreciated!**

**(Also thank you to mstef for pointing out the problem with the note in the last chapter. Should be fixed now.) ONWARD TO LOKI ANGST!**

Loki looked around the castle as Professor Umbridge led them through the hallways. Even though he already knew all about it, he still made sure to listen aptly as she explained how the ceremony was going to proceed.

"You'll be called alphabetically by surname, then you'll sit down on the stool and place the Sorting Hat on your head. When it calls out your House, you will make your way to the corresponding table in a timely fashion to make room for the next student. Now, for the rules of the castle..."

Loki felt an elbow poke his side roughly, and he looked over to see his brother, Thor, point to something on the wall while snickering quietly. "Loki," he whispered. "That is the spot where Father turned a Slytherin into a large worm. I think I can still see some of the _slime._" Thor snickered a bit more, and Loki craned his neck but was unable to see any indication of worm slime.

He grinned up at his brother, his elder by ten months. "Just think, Thor. Soon _we'll_ be able to turn Slytherin into worms..." He smiled softly at the thought, and felt his spirits rise at the thought of the Sorting Hat calling out "GRYFFINDOR" to the applause of the scarlet-and-gold-clad table.

Thor nodded seriously, looking stern. "We will make Father proud."

The crowd of first years began muttering excitedly as the Great Hall came into view. Loki tried to see over the heads of the students, but was unable to. The students grew hushed, however, as they entered the Hall, bottling up into a tight group just inside the entranceway. Loki followed Thor, pushing to the front of the group.

It was even better than Father had described.

The room was large, with walls reaching up to the heavens above. The ceiling showed the night sky with such clarity that Loki found himself unsure if there _was_ a ceiling. There were four long tables laid with golden plates, goblets, and silverware, above which floated hundreds of candles that illuminated the entire Hall. At these tables sat every student at Hogwarts, and every single one of them were looking at the crowd of first years. Loki looked toward the scarlet and gold table, toward his future housemates.

"First years, welcome to Hogwarts!" a voice boomed from the other end of the Hall. As the students burst into cheers and applause, Loki looked up to see the teachers table. There was a short man, on the porky side, with a large black mustache standing in the middle, looking over the students.

Headmaster Snixley.

Loki had met the man on several occasions, when he and his father had business together. He had always seemed a bit loud to Loki, but he supposed one would have to be when dealing with Father.

Beside the headmaster stood a small stood, upon which sat an old, beat-up looking black hat. The Sorting Hat.

As the applause died down, and there was a moment of silence until the headmaster stepped aside, and a large seam opened in the hat.

A voice sang forth from the seam, and Loki realized that this was the Hat's song.

Oh you may not think me pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin,

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

There were some more cheers until Professor Umbridge stepped up to take Snixley's place, standing beside the Hat. "Banner, Bruce!" she called out.

A skinny boy with large, black framed glasses and wavy, dark brown hair hesitantly detached from the group and approached the stool. He stood in front of the Hat for a few seconds before slowly lifting it up and putting it on his head. The Hall was completely silent for a few seconds before a deafening voice called out "RAVENCLAW!" and the table of blue-and-copper clad students erupted in applause.

"Barton, Clinton!"

This time a small but sturdy boy with a close-chopped haircut stepped confidently forward. He lifted the Hat onto his head, and the hat took much longer to decide than before. After about thirty seconds of silence, the had cried out "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Callahan, Miranda!"

A small girl with short, brunette hair came forward quickly. She plopped down on the stool, and the hat spoke after a few short seconds. "RAVENCLAW!" The table again erupted in cheers as she went to sit down next to Bruce Banner.

"Coulson, Phillip!"

A boy with neatly-combed brown hair came forward, grinning. The hat took a tense forty seconds with him, finally deciding on "HUFFLEPUFF!" The yellow table cheered loudly as Coulson joined Barton.

A few other first years went up, among them two Gryffindors, three Hufflepuffs, one Ravenclaw, and two Slytherin.

Then it was his turn.

"Odinson, Loki!"

As he made his way up to the stool, he couldn't help but think of the hat yelling out "GRYFFINDOR!" and the scarlet table cheering for him. He would write to his father that night, along with Thor. He'd be so happy, so proud of his son.

He put the hat on top of his head, awaiting the inevitable.

Unfortunately, it didn't come.

_"Hmmm. Very interesting. You want Gryffindor, yes?"_

Loki nodded his head eagerly.

_"Ah, but you are much more suited to Slytherin. Such cunning and ambition I sense in you..."_

Loki sat there in shock. Slytherin? But everyone in my family has been in Gryffindor. How...?

_"Ah, but you are not truly an Odinson...You would be stifled in Gryffindor. You really are much more suited for _SLYTHERIN!"

"Not truly a-what? What did you mean?" He asked aloud, but unfortunately the hat was silent, and Loki was forced to walk to the green-and-silver table, shocked and numb.

He sat at the table, barely noticing anything around him. He heard cheering from the coveted scarlet table and knew that his brother had been sorted into Gryffindor. He and Thor were rivals now.

He would have to tell his father of his failure. All his life, Loki had grown up with tales of how his father had fought Death Eaters, former Slytherins. How Slytherins were evil and to be looked down upon as weak for succumbing to the Dark Arts.

And now Loki himself was one of them.

But...but what had the Hat meant by "not an Odinson?"

His mind was whirling, but he still managed to catch a few names and houses among the quickly-spinning-out-of-control thoughts.

"Potts, Virginia...GRYFFINDOR!"

"Romanoff, Natasha...SLYTHERIN!"

"Stark, Anthony...RAVENCLAW!"

"Weasley, Victoire...GRYFFINDOR!"

The entire Hall erupted into cheers as the ceremony came to an end. Before the feast could begin, however, Snixley took center stage again. Loki didn't want to listen; he just wanted to get to his room, curl up in his bed, and _think._ But he forced himself to listen, to process the words.

"Now that every House is a bit larger in numbers than earlier..." some more applause from the students interrupted the headmaster, who patiently waited for it to finish. "...I have a few rules to go over. Mostly for the benefit of our new students, although a few of our older ones could do with a bit of a reminder."

He continued after a few predictable grumbles and eye rolls. "There is to be no wandering the halls between the hours of eleven pm to five am. Any student caught out of their common rooms at those times will receive an immediate detention. Mister Filch has asked me to remind students that most products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are banned, and that he has the power to punish students caught with any banned items. A full list of banned items may be found outside of his office. I ask you students to please refrain from spellwork outside of the classroom, and to remind you that students caught dueling will be punished severely. Now then, let the feast begin!"

The headmaster waved his wand, and the smell of warm food filled the Hall, but Loki found that he had little appetite. All he could think about was his father's disappointment.

He forced himself to eat anyway, making conversation with the other Slytherin, his new House. His new home. He introduced himself to several upperclassmen, and was pleased that several already knew who he was.

It was because of his father, of course, but he could still use the connections.

After the feast, the Slytherin perfects lead the first years to their common room in the dungeons, spouting some ridiculous rumor about a giant snake that ate "poor, unsuspecting first years" to scare the more gullible.

They entered to the common room through a passage behind a wall after saying the password - Mudblood. The common room was dark, but pleasantly so. It had green carpets and chairs, and a silver fireplace that dominated the room.

Loki found himself wandering toward where the upperclassmen were going, assuming that the dormitories were in that direction. He was correct, and soon found his name on a door with another - Henry Felch. Loki shrugged and entered, finding that his trunk was sitting beside the bed on the left.

He got out a piece of parchment and began to scratch out a letter to his father, telling him of his failure to the family. But above all, he asked what the Hat had meant. He wanted to know if he was really a part of this family at all

After it was written, after he had gotten all of his thoughts and feelings onto the paper, he walked down to the common room and threw it into the fire. He watched as the flames made the parchment curl, first turning black at the edges and then giving in to the red tongues. He smiled in grim satisfaction, and found that he didn't care about the strange looks he was getting from his house mates.

Because in writing the letter, he'd found some of the answers he'd been looking for. The truth was, he didn't belong. He wasn't a true Odinson; being sorted into Slytherin proved that. Maybe the Hat had meant something more literal, and he'd be sure to research that soon. But in the meantime, it was time to find somewhere he really belonged. Time to forge a new family, one that was like him, one that he wouldn't disappoint.

It was time to embrace who he really was.

A cunning snake, not a roaring lion.

A true Slytherin.


	7. Chapter VII - Thor

**Note: The consensus seems to be for keeping Miranda in, so I'll just leave everything the way it is. Thank you SO MUCH for the feedback and reviews! (And, no, I didn't forget Steve. He's coming, don't worry...)**

Thor was worried about his brother. His face after he had been sorted into Slytherin...had been troubling.

It was all Thor could do to not run out of his room to search for his brother. Only two things stopped him, really. He didn't know where the Slytherin common room was, and he didn't know the password to get in. He supposed he could always ask an upperclassman and wait outside until a Slytherin came by, but...he didn't think they'd take kindly to a Gryffindor first year being anywhere in the area of their common room.

Even that wouldn't have stopped him, if he had thought that Loki would have actually _talked_ to him about whatever was wrong.

He sat up in his bed, shaking his head vigorously. It was late, and most of the other Gryffindors were asleep. He probably would be too - he was exhausted - but he was too worried about Loki.

If only he could talk to someone about it...he supposed if he had a roommate, he'd be able to talk to him, but he had somehow ended up being the only person in this room. It was built for two, but there had been an odd number of new Gryffindors.

He sighed and laid back down, determined to talk to Loki at breakfast the next morning. Classes started tomorrow, and he really didn't need to be nodding off in the middle of them. That would be a horrible first impression...

~.~.~

He awoke to one of the other first years - Joseph Peckerston, his sleep addled brain provided him - sticking his head in and saying "Thor, right? You'd best wake up, breakfast ends in fifteen minutes!"

Thor rocketed out of his bed, putting on his uniform so quickly that he forgot his shirt. He was halfway through the common room before he realized that the girls were staring at him, and he looked down at himself. Woops.

He ran back up the stairs, shrugging on his shirt and still attempting to tie his tie as he exited through the portrait door. As he sprinted toward the Great Hall, he managed to get lost twice, at one point ending up somewhere near the Quidditch Pitch.

He finally made it with about two minutes to spare. He looked around the Slytherin table, but couldn't spot Loki anywhere. He sighed in defeat, walking over to the Gryffindor table to grab something before classes began.

He'd have to be sure to catch Loki during lunch.

"There you are, Mister Odinson! This is your class schedule for the year. I'll be seeing you in Herbology in but a few hours," a professor smiled at him, holding out a piece of parchment. He was wearing a sweater vest, and seemed to have forgotten his teaching robes. Thor also noticed that he had quite a few leaves sticking out of his hair, and there was a vine slowly creeping up his arm.

"Thanks, Professor Longbottom. I'm just going to-" Thor stopped talking as he noticed that the food had disappeared. He sighed in disappointment and his stomach rumbled in agreement. "Never mind..."

Professor Longbottom followed Thor's gaze and chuckled. He rooted around in his pocket before pulling out a bagel wrapped in a napkin. "Here, take this. Can't have my students dropping from hunger on the first day of classes, can I?"

Thor's eyes lit up, and he thanked his Head of House profusely. The professor just smiled and patted Thor's shoulder. "It's fine, it's fine. Now off to class before you're late! You don't want to lose Gryffindor any points on your first day, do you?"

Thor shook his head vigorously, practically shouting "No, sir. Never," while giving Professor Longbottom a salute. He ran off to his next class while shouting another hasty thank you behind him.

Thor looked down as he ran, seeing that his first class was actually Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. He briefly wondered why Professor Longbottom wasn't there already, but then shrugged mentally, figuring that he had professor-y stuff to do before class.

He made it to the greenhouses without managing to get horrible lost, and stood with the crowd of students outside who were waiting for the professor to arrive.

"I have seen the professor in the Great Hall but a few minutes ago. He should be along shortly," Thor declared to the other students. They all stared at him for a few seconds, and Thor double-checked that he was wearing all of his clothes. They started talking amongst their own houses, and Thor looked up at the sky, stretching.

Just then, he noticed something odd. There was a shoe sticking out over the edge of the greenhouse roof. No, not just a shoe. A foot! There was someone up there! He was about to call out to ask why they were up there, but a small boy appeared at his side.

"I'm pretty sure he's sleeping up there, just leave him until the professor comes. You're Odinson, right? One of the Minister's sons?"

Thor nodded absently, used to everyone recognizing him. "My name is Thor."

"I'm Phil Coulson. Nice to meet you." Phil stuck his hand out, and Thor shook it, maybe squeezing a bit too tightly because Phil made a small grimace.

Thor squinted up at the foot and pointed, "How did they get up there, anyway?"

Phil looked up as well. "That's Clint, my roommate. If his recent activity is any indication, he likes high places. And-" Phil looked around briefly, "I think he climbed up on those seed barrels over there."

"Activity? What was he doing, climbing up the walls?" Thor gave a chuckle, picturing a human-spider hybrid as Phil's roommate.

"Basically. He somehow rigged up this hammock thing to hang from the ceiling and slept in that. I'm still trying to figure out how he got it to stick up there, because he definitely didn't use his wand...where in the world is the professor? He's ten minutes late to his own class!"

Just then, Thor spotted someone wearing a sweater vest sprinting toward them. He elbowed Phil, pointing toward the amusing sight. "Perhaps we should wake your friend now."

Phil nodded and began to head toward the seed barrels, but Thor stopped him. He pointed his wand toward the figure on the roof and muttered "_Aguamenti_," watching as a stream of water left his wand, hitting Clint. He had seen his father use the charm enough times to know how it worked.

A boy with short brown hair and a square-ish face sat up quickly, spitting water out of his mouth and shaking his head vigorously. "What was that for?" he shouted angrily down at Phil and Thor. Phil simply pointed toward where Professor Longbottom was sprinting toward them, one hand holding a small red ball.

Clint blinked and then jumped down, causing several of the girls watching to gasp quietly. He landed without a problem, and muttered his thanks to Phil. "Why didn't you just shout or something though?"

Thor grinned. "This way was much more fun!"

Clint snorted, trying to shake some on the water off of his shirt, but failed miserably. He started to take it off, but was stopped by the arrival of the professor.

Professor Longbottom was extremely red in the face - not from the run, but from apparent embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! I completely forgot this class had been moved to the morning. I knew I was forgetting something." He glared down at the clear ball in his hand, angrily stuffing it into his pants pocket.

He waved his wand at the greenhouse doors, and gestured for the students to follow him inside.

Thor followed Phil to a table near the front of the room that had an unobstructed view of the small chalkboard. Clint sat down next to Phil, and there was an empty seat left next to Thor.

Professor Longbottom clapped his hands together once everyone was seated. "So, Greenhouse One! This is the only greenhouse that you'll be working in as first years. We'll move on to Number Two in your third year, and if you get up to OWL level, you'll see the wonders in Numbers Three and Four.

"All tools that you'll need can be found up front," he gestured to his right, where there were stained boxes holding trowels, gloves, and other, less-identifiable, things. "I will distribute any plants that we'll be working with among the tables. Before we work with each plant, we'll have about thirty minutes of background and safety information on it, so you don't go getting your fingers snapped off." A few girls giggled nervously, but after a few seconds it became apparent that Professor Longbottom wasn't joking.

"There will be a short report due every Monday about the various plants we worked with. I expect them to be at least eight inches." Groans erupted from the class, Clint being especially loud, and the professor just rolled his eyes. "It's not as hard as it sounds, I promise. Take notes, make it coherent, and you'll be fine. Now-" he grinned at the class and turned around to the chalkboard, "Take out your notebooks. We'll be going over some basic classifications of various plants this week, and next week we'll start working with them."

The greenhouse quickly filled with the rustle of paper, the squeaking of quills, and Professor Longbottom's voice. The school year had started.

~.~.~

After Herbology, Thor had gone to Transfiguration and sat through forty-five minutes of Professor Hill turning students into various inanimate objects. Thor involuntarily shuddered. Being a teapot was not an experience he was eager to repeat.

She had said that she was the Ravenclaw Head of House, and seemed a bit stern but otherwise struck Thor as a good teacher. She had assigned reading from the textbook, and Thor was aghast to hear that they would have a test every week.

He was in the Great Hall now, vacuuming up whatever food was within reach and keeping an eye on the door for Loki. He'd have to walk right past Thor, and he figured he'd grab Loki then.

Just as he started inhaling something that resembled pasta, Thor saw him enter. He raised a hand to his brother, calling out "Loki, come! Eat with me, brother!"

He noticed that the other boys dressed in green walking with Loki snickered, not bothering to hide it. Loki looked sad for a moment, but then turned his nose up at Thor. "Please. We're not even in the same house."

"But, brother-"

"We're not brothers anymore, Thor." He said it quietly, so no one else could hear, but to Thor, the words were thunderous.

"Not brothers? Loki, what-"

Loki just shook his head sadly and walked away. Thor was left staring at his food, suddenly losing his appetite. Not brothers? How could that be possible? Just because they were in different houses didn't mean anything.

Not to Thor, anyway.

He slammed his fist down on the table, standing up angrily. He ignored the startled looks he received as he stalked out of the Hall. He ran up to the Gryffindor common room, and had to repeat the password twice before the portrait lady understood. He just couldn't think straight.

He fell upon his bed, finding himself wishing for someone to talk to. Hogwarts was supposed to be fun, exciting, a way to meet lifelong friends. Instead, the only thing he'd accomplished on his first day had been the apparent loss of a brother.

He had no roommate to talk to, no brother to joke with, no friends to speak of. He was alone, utterly and irrevocably alone.

Quite possibly for the first time in his life.

Thor closed his eyes and signed deeply, wishing desperately for someone to talk to.


	8. Chapter VIII - Clint

**Note: Sorry it took so long, guys! Classes started up again, so I don't have as much time for writing as I'd like. I'm going to try my best to keep updating about twice a week though, so don't worry! Onward to chapter 8, because it's not Hogwarts without some trouble, eh? ;)**

**Thanks as always for the reviews!**

Clint was just sitting there, listening to Phil rant and rave about some wizard rock band, when the Gryffindor who had sprayed him with water earlier in the week plopped down beside him. Phil stopped his babbling to say hi, and Clint nodded at the large boy.

The big blonde kid - Thop? Something like that - said hi in return, and sat there looking like a puppy who'd been kicked out of his home on a rainy night. Clint took pity on him and asked "Something wrong?"

Thor started to nod, but then stopped himself. "I do not wish to burden you with my troubles."

Clint just rolled his eyes. "Out with it, big guy."

He frowned, but began to speak. "It is my brother, Loki. I think that because he has been sorted into Slytherin, he believes that he no longer belongs in our family."

Phil frowned from across the table, gesturing vaguely in the air with his fork as he spoke, a half-eaten sausage link flopping around on top. "Why in the world would he think that?"

"Because every single person in our family has been sorted into Gryffindor since, well, since forever. He is the first to be put into a different house, and Slytherin no less..." Thor looked down at the table, and Clint noticed that he was biting his lip.

Phil frowned again, and started articulating his words with the sausage link, causing Clint to lean further back in his seat to avoid being splattered with grease. "That's _stupid_. There's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin."

"Our father always spoke proudly of how we were to be 'the two Gryffindor Terrors.' And he would always say that Slytherins inevitably grew ever closer to the Dark Arts, to evil."

It was Clint's turn to frown. "Well, that's bullshit," he said simply. The other two stared at him in utter confusion. "What?" he asked, growing confused himself. They kept staring at him. "No offense or anything."

"Um. What is a 'bullshit?'" the big blonde kid asked.

"Oh. It's, well, it's kind of a bad word? It's like if something is stupid, you say that it's bull. How have you guys never heard of that?"

Thor just stared at him some more, the confusion seemingly taking up permanent residence on his face. Phil blinked a few times before his face lit up with enlightenment. "Ohhhh, that's right, you're muggle born." He turned to Thor, "It's a muggle insult, Thor."

_Thor! That's what it was._

Thor nodded in understanding. "Ah, of course. Muggle insults never make any sense."

"Hey, I find that mildly off-" Clint was interrupted when he noticed an upperclassman tapping Thor on the shoulder.

Thor turned around, meeting the eyes of a fifth-or-sixth year Gryffindor glaring down at him, with two more behind him. "What is wrong?" Thor asked.

"Is our table not good enough for you or something, little first year?" the upperclassman growled.

Thor cocked his head to the side in confusion, but before he could say anything, Clint spoke up. "What, is our friend not allowed to sit with us just because he's in a different house? What _bull,_" he growled angrily.

Phil put up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Clint, calm down." He turned to the upperclassmen who were still standing there looking both scary and intimidating. Two of them had their wands out, Clint noticed. "What seems to be the problem?"

"The _problem,_" said their apparent leader, "is that this kid," he pushed Thor's shoulder roughly, "would rather sit with a bunch of spineless bumblebees than with his own house. So much for loyalty."

Clint noticed several things happen in the next few seconds, as events started spiraling out of control. First was that he had unconsciously drawn his wand when the upperclassman had pushed Thor's shoulder, and he just now noticed it in his hand. Second was that the other Hufflepuffs present at the table had heard the insult and were drawing their wands as well, ready to defend their House's honor. Third, and possibly most important, was that a group of Slytherin upperclassmen were sniggering behind Phil, and Clint distinctly heard one of them whisper "Told you it would be good."

Then all hell broke loose.

Spells were flying everywhere, and Clint's shoulder got grazed with a rogue spell before Thor managed to pull him down under the table. Phil bent down as well, drawing his own wand. Although their wands wouldn't do much good - still on their first day of classes and all that - it made him feel safer.

Clint's shoulder was turning a nasty shade of purple, and he was clutching it in pain. He waved Phil and Thor off when they tried to get a better look at it, saying that it was "just a flesh wound."

Thor looked confused yet again as he said "Flesh wounds can be very serious."

Clint just rolled his eyes.

_BANG!_

Everyone in the Great Hall jumped about ten feet in the air as a deafening sound rang throughout the room, causing everyone to stop mid-spell.

"_WHAT _is going on here?" Headmaster Snixley strode into the Great Hall, his pointy purple hat slightly lopsided.

Several students tried to make a run for it, but the headmaster simply flicked his wand and they stopped in their tracks, immobilized. His eyes spun around the room until they landed on a Hufflepuff who was mostly intact except for the fact that his hair was smoldering.

"You. Donovan. Tell me what happened."

Of course someone chose that particular moment to douse poor Donovan's head with an _Aguamenti_ charm.

Phil crawled out from under the table, helping Clint with his messed-up shoulder. Clint took a look around, taking in the damage that had been done to the Hall in a matter of moments. There were only three other teachers present, and all of them seemed to have been too far away to stop the fight. They were now making their way to the headmaster, stopping occasionally to wave their wands and fix a broken table or patch up a wall.

"There was a Gryffindor first year sitting at our table, and some sixth years from his house started bothering him. Then they insulted out house, and, well..." Donovan had the decency to blush. "We kind of reacted. I apologize profusely, sir."

Donovan even went so far as to bow to the headmaster, who just rolled his eyes and told him to "Pick yourself up and help clean up your mess." In a much louder voice, so he could be heard throughout the Hall, he said "Anyone involved in this will serve a week's detention. Fifty points will be taken from both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Anyone injured please make your way to a professor or the infirmary." He then waved his wand again, allowing the previously-immobilized students to move again.

He strode over to where Clint, Phil, and Thor were standing. "I assume you're the first year Gryffindor in question, Mister Odinson?" Thor nodded mutely, and Snixley just sighed, saying "My office in fifteen minutes, you three. Also," he turned to where the three Gryffindor upperclassmen were standing silently. "You three as well." He then waved them off, and made his way to where a small group of Ravenclaws were slowly turning orange, sparks shooting from their ears.

Phil started pulling Clint toward a teacher, and Thor followed behind. "I am deeply sorry, guys. This was all my fault."

Clint looked back at Thor. The abandoned puppy look was back, and damn it, he couldn't _stand_ that look. "It's not your fault, it's those asshat House mates of yours."

Thor didn't even ask what an asshat was, _that's_ how guilty this kid was feeling.

Phil must have noticed as well, because he said "Don't blame yourself, Thor. It's stupid, the whole thing. If someone wants to sit with a different house, they should be allowed without the whole exploding."

Thor nodded mutely, looking marginally cheered up. He only looked like a puppy that had been left in the rain for an hour or so, now.

They came to a frazzled looking teacher who took one look at Clint's shoulder and healed it with a tap of her wand. Clint thanked her, and they walked out of the chaos of the Great Hall and down a few hallways before Phil stopped. "Guys. Do either of you actually know where the headmaster's office _is?"_ Clint and Thor both shook their heads, and Phil sighed. "Great..."

They spotted a random student rushing around, carrying a cauldron full of what looked like bubbling tar. "Um, excuse me. Could you perhaps point us in the direction of the headmaster's office?"

The girl pointed down a hallway "Gargoyle over there."

She then ran off, vowing to curse Jimblejanx at the top of her lungs.

Clint didn't dare meet anyone's eyes, afraid that he would burst out laughing at any moment. They made their way down the hallway, stopping when they made it to the gargoyle.

The three Gryffindors were there, sitting against the wall. No one said a word as Clint, Phil and Thor sat down on the opposite side.

Clint didn't know about the other two, but he had a serious staring contest going on with this long-haired kid on the right. He just refused to blink. Clint was just about to resort to clapping loudly in an attempt to startle him when Snixley walked up.

He didn't even glance at the students, just walked up to the gargoyle and said "Mugwump," and the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing a spiral staircase. The headmaster began to walk up it, not even bothering to check if they were following him.

Clint figured he knew they would.

The Gryffindor upperclassmen went first, glaring at the first years. Clint stuck his tongue out at them while crossing his eyes. He was pleased to note that one looked utterly disgusted. Wimps.

They made their way up the stairs in complete silence except for their footsteps echoing off the tower walls.

They made it to a door, and Snixley waved his wand again, opening it. He then stood outside until we had all entered and sat down in chairs he conjured. He stepped inside and the door closed with a resolute _click._

Great. Now he felt trapped, and Clint _hated_ feeling trapped.

"So," Snixley said crisply as he sat down, "tell me what happened."

Everyone started talking at once and Snixley just put his head in his hands and sighed. "You," he said, pointing at Phil, "Tell me what happened."

Phil began speaking, telling the headmaster about how Thor sat down at the Hufflepuff table because he needed to talk, and how the upperclassmen had come along and antagonized the Hufflepuffs, starting the fight.

The Gryffindors bristled at this point, but a look from Snixley kept them silent until Phil had finished. "So you see, sir, it really wasn't Thor's fault."

Snixley nodded, then turned to the lead Gryffindor. "Your turn."

The Gryffindor gulped nervously. "Well, sir. What happened was that we saw this first year Gryffindor here sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Pretty much everyone noticed it, the houses don't mix during meals all that often. We didn't care at first, honestly. He could sit wherever he wanted, right? But then all of a sudden...it made me angry. Like, really, really angry, sir. I couldn't think straight, and the next thing I know, I'm casting jinxes left and right at the Hufflepuff table." The other two Gryffindor upperclassmen were nodding along, and all three looked ashamed of themselves. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. I don't know what came over me."

The other two looked up and apologized as well, and Snixley's brow furrowed in thought. "So what you mean to tell me is that you have no recollection of the time between noticing Mister Odinson here and actually casting spells at the Hufflepuffs." The three Gryffindors nodded sadly, and Snixley bowed his head in thought for a few moments.

"Did any of you notice anything strange before you saw Odinson at the Hufflepuff table?" Everyone shook their heads, but Clint was starting to remember something.

"Sir. Right before the first spell was cast, I heard a Slytherin say 'Told you it would be good.' to another. Do you think they could have somehow caused the fight?" Clint didn't really think that the Gryffindors were free of guilt, but they had seemed honestly apologetic while telling their side of the story. Although, Clint supposed, they were probably feeling sorry about the fact that they were now in the headmasters office, inches away from getting their asses handed to them.

Snixley shook his head immediately. "That could have been in reference to anything, Barton, but I will look into it. Now, as for punishments..." Everyone in the room noticeably straightened their backs. "Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for each of you four involved. The same goes for Hufflepuff for you two. You will all serve a total of two weeks detention with me."

Phil and Clint started to protest that they and Thor shouldn't be punished - they hadn't participated in the fight at all, and Thor started yelling that it was his fault, the other two shouldn't get in any trouble. Snixley silenced them with a look, then said "You were at the center of the conflict. While it is not against any rules to sit at other house's tables, it_ did_ antagonize the Gryffindors, apparently, and you have to take responsibility for that."

Clint started to grumble about the unfairness of it all, but Snixley wasn't done speaking. "Thor, feel free to sit at any house's table that you wish. I believe that some mingling amongst them could be beneficial to the school. If any other trouble arises from this, all involved will receive a month of detention with me. Please spread that around. Your detention will start tomorrow night. Wonderful start to the school year, boys, I must say. You are dismissed."

The boys filed out in silence, and the Gryffindor upperclassmen ran ahead, presumably to get to class. Clint checked his watch and noticed that they were almost late. Man, accidentally causing his first magical fight and getting in trouble sure did take more time than one would think.

He started running off to Transfiguration with Phil, and Thor apologized again before going off to History of Magic.


	9. Chapter IX - Tony

**Sorry it's late! Honestly, I was a but afraid to post this because I know you guys have been waiting for Tony and I didn't want to mess it up. Hope I didn't disappoint. And as always, thanks for the reviews and follows!**

Tony took his time walking up the stairs to the astronomy classroom, stopping every now and then to admire a particular statue or portrait. He wasn't worried about being late. On the contrary, he was trying to go for a record.

So far, he had managed to be late for every single one of his classes. Granted, it was only the first week, so none of the teachers had subtracted points from Ravenclaw, but still. Tony was quite proud of himself.

And now, as he sauntered into Astronomy a grand seven minutes late, he'd managed to make the proper impression on every teacher he had today. He was slightly disappointed when the only comment the teacher had was "Mister Stark, how kind of you to join us. Please take a seat." He didn't let it show, however, as he gazed around the room, seemingly without a care in the world.

He spotted his roommate, Bruce, sitting with another Ravenclaw and a few Hufflepuffs. He slowly meandered over to their table, being sure that everyone watching knew he was taking his sweet time.

He sat down and immediately leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head and feet up on the table. He didn't bother to take out his textbook or take notes, just gazed at the ceiling, pretending to zone out.

The professor was just finishing explaining how the classes were to go from now on - lecture and notes before dinner, then using the telescopes after dinner.

He'd never tell anyone this, but he was actually looking forward to Astronomy. The stars had always fascinated Tony, and he'd already devoured the textbook. He figured he could probably skip every single class and still ace the tests.

But he probably wouldn't, and _not_ just because his roommate would give him endless grief about it. No, it was because Tony actually _liked_ class. He'd just never admit it, even under the influence of Veritaseum.

Suddenly, as Professor Johnson turned her back to write something down on the board, Tony found himself falling backward. He hit the ground with a hard _thump_ and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up to glare at everyone.

The entire class was laughing at his apparent clumsiness, but Tony knew what had happened. He had briefly felt someone's hand push his feet off of the table, causing him to lose his balance. And from how hard that Hufflepuff was laughing...

Well, two could play at that game.

No one ruined Tony's carefully planned image and got away with it.

He waited until the class had quieted down again, until the professor had her back turned to the board. Then, he slowly took out his wand, pointing it at the Hufflepuff under the table.

He whispered "_Aguamenti,"_ under his breath, aiming at the kid's crotch.

Knowing upperclassmen had its advantages, including learning certain useful charms before they came up in class.

He was pleased when the kid jumped up in his seat, loudly bellowing "Not _again_!"

Whatever that meant.

Tony started cackling loudly, yelling "Look, he's wet his pants! So homesick you're having wet dreams, little Hufflepuff?"

He supposed it was mean, slightly cruel even, but the kid had made him fall backwards onto the ground, his image of uncaring cool kid shattered before the first week was even out. He knew he could rebuild it - he could rebuild anything - but he deserved _some_ revenge, right?

Right.

Everyone in the class laughed except for those at his table. The wet boy got a strange look on his face and sat down quickly, staring blankly at his paper. Tony got a sinking feeling as the other Hufflepuff boy glared daggers at him.

Had he been too harsh? He continued to pretend to be unconcerned, staring at the ceiling while the class quieted down and began to take notes on the basics of Astronomy again. But he kept stealing glances at the Hufflepuff kid, who refused to look up from his paper.

Tony frowned, his guilt growing greater by the second, despite his attempts to not care. He didn't know this kid, didn't owe him anything. Why should it matter that he couldn't take a joke?

But he still couldn't seem to stop himself from taking out a piece of parchment and scribbling a note on it, passing it to Bruce under the table.

_Why did it bother him so much?_

He frowned down at the note before grabbing his quill and scratching something in return, shoving the paper at Tony before returning to his notes.

_Not my business to tell you even if I knew_

Wait, what? He was actually feeling guilty enough to try and _fix_ whatever he'd done, and his roommate couldn't bother to help him out a bit?

_Well what exactly am I supposed to do then?_

He shoved the paper at him and watched the Hufflepuff kid start to doodle on his paper. Bruce was periodically glaring at Tony and looking questionably at the Hufflepuffs.

Tony drifted off until he felt a light punch in his side and looked down to see the parchment sitting in his lap.

_Try talking to him, not to me._

Oh. He glanced over at Bruce again, and was surprised to see that he was no longer taking notes. Instead, he was staring at him with one eyebrow raised questionably. Tony frowned, but nodded.

It was one thing to hurt someone, it was another to do it accidentally.

And Tony _hated_ feeling guilty.

It was then that he realized that it wasn't just Bruce not taking notes - no one was. He glanced to the front of the classroom to see Professor Johnson gazing dreamily at the sunset, muttering something about "Pretty clouds..."

"Um. Is she alright?" he heard the dry Hufflepuff ask.

"The upperclassmen said she does that a lot," Tony said. "Something about a charm gone wrong when she was a student..."

Everyone at the table was glaring at him, except for the wet Hufflepuff who was staring up at the ceiling. Tony sighed. "Oi," He said, directing his speech to the oblivious Hufflepuff. "I've got some spare pumpkin pasties in my room if you want some."

The boy glanced away from the ceiling and looked at Tony, shrugging. "Um, okay, I guess." The kid paused before holding out his hand for Tony to shake. "I'm Clint, by the way. Clint Barton."

Tony shook his hand, feeling relieved. "Tony Stark."

The other Hufflepuff kid coughed suddenly. "_Stark?_ You're Howard Stark's son?"

Tony nodded, forcing a grin. "The one and only." He shook the kid's hand, who introduced himself as one Phil Coulson.

The Ravenclaw girl sitting beside Bruce was frowning at him, brow furrowed. Suddenly her face lit up, and she exclaimed "Oh! Stark Industries makes guns, don't they? Anything to do with you?" Everyone looked at her strangely, and she blushed lightly. "One of my foster parents was big on weapons..." She shook her head slightly and held out her hand. "Anyway, I'm Miranda. Nice to see you're not a total jackass."

"Thanks, I think? And Dad's company makes more than guns, but he never tells me any of the juicy details." He turned to Clint again. "Anyway, what made you zone out like that?"

Clint shrugged lightly. "Homesick, I guess."

Tony was about to ask what that meant when a Ravenclaw in the front tentatively raised her hand, asking "Professor Johnson? It's time for dinner..."

Tony knew he liked the sound of that. He stood up, grabbed Bruce's elbow, and rocketed out of the Astronomy tower without a backward glance. Bruce protested weakly, but Tony paid no attention, getting to dinner before everyone ate all the _good_ food was the priority here.

They made it to the Hall, and Miranda joined them a few minutes later, looking slightly frazzled, her short hair sticking up like a hedgehog's spines. "What happened?" Bruce asked.

She sighed and shook her head. "Someone tripped on the stairs and bowled everyone over in the rush for food."

Tony made a grunting noise and swallowed the piece of meatloaf that was in his mouth. "I still want to know what it was that I said that got to Clint like that." Miranda and Bruce were looking at him suspiciously, and he tried to grin reassuringly. He didn't think it worked very well - if anything, their looks turned to glares. "I just don't want to accidentally do it again or anything. Don't want him to start crying or something."

The thing was, it was true. Tony liked a good prank every now and then, but he didn't want to hurt anyone with them. Unless he, you know, meant to. But that was a different story.

Bruce shrugged and Miranda shook her head. "Don't know anything about that," Bruce said softly.

"Oh, come on Brucie. You're smart, you must know _something._"

He frowned and shrugged again. "All I know is that him and his brother had some sort of falling out or something. You'll have to talk to him if you're that curious."

"I..." Miranda closed her mouth and frowned for a few seconds, staring intently at Tony. She nodded to herself before continuing. "I'll tell you, but I swear if you tell _anyone_ I _will_ curse you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month. That goes for you, too," she said, glaring at Bruce.

The boys nodded meekly, Tony even going so far as to cross his heart solemnly.

"He really doesn't have a home anymore." She bit her lip, looking indecisive before continuing. "It was just him and his brother, but when his brother found out that Clint had magic and he didn't...it wasn't very pretty." She shrugged lightly, looking up at the ceiling. "I think Clint's been sending him letters, but he hasn't gotten any back..."

Tony didn't have any siblings, but he could imagine the pain of something like that. Lord knew he had enough experience with being ignored by family...He felt his heart ache in sympathy but didn't let it show. He barely knew the kid, but he was sure Clint did _not_ want pity. Tony knew _he_ wouldn't, anyway.

"So brothers and homes are sore spots. Got it." Tony went back to his meal for a few seconds, trying to distract his mind. "So, anyone know when flying lessons start?" he asked after a few seconds, unable to stand the awkward silence that seemed to hang perpetually around Bruce and Miranda.

"I think they're on Friday before dinner," Bruce said.

"Great! You guys already know how to fly though, right? Flying's the _best._"

"Uh, Tony? Looks like you've got some drool there-" Bruce said, gesturing to the right side of Tony's mouth. Tony wiped it with his sleeve, but couldn't see any - Oh.

He rolled his eyes dramatically as Bruce snorted. "Seriously, though." Both Bruce and Miranda were shaking their heads. "I thought you weren't muggle born, though?" he asked Bruce.

"I'm not, I just...never learned," Bruce shrugged.

Tony swept his gaze to Miranda, who shrugged as well. "Not sure if my parents were wizards or not, but I definitely didn't grow up around flying people."

"This is _unbelievable!"_ he shouted, slamming a fist down on the table for effect. "You guys need to experience the wonder that is flight."

"Well, we're learning on Friday, so-" Miranda was cut off as Tony suddenly leapt up, an idea striking him. He told them that he'd see them in Astronomy, and ran off to the Quidditch Pitch. If they hadn't learned to fly yet, then he'd just have to give them an early lesson.

In his hurry, however, Tony neglected to look where he was going and plowed into a small, black haired Slytherin as he ran through an empty hallway. The other boy growled "Out of the way, fool."

Tony recognized that voice, however. "Loki? Loki Odinson?"

"What of it, Stark?" the boy growled, obviously in a bad mood.

"Nothing, nothing. Just not all that surprised that you ended up in Slytherin is all," he said lightly, shrugging.

Loki, however, seemed to grow angry. "And _why_," he growled. "Would that be? When every member of my family had been in Gryffindor for _generations._"

Tony put his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture. "Just that, um." Tony paused, unsure of how to continue. "Just that I kind of always thought that you were adopted."

Loki's eyes went wide and he quickly whipped out his wand. "_You take that back!"_ he yelled, sticking the wand in Tony's face.

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Tony yelled, still holding his hands out. He figured if he went for his wand now, Loki would hit him with some nasty curse that'd make his nose turn purple or something. Actually, that'd be pretty cool, now that he tho-

"How _dare_ you imply that I am not an Odinson," Loki growled. Tony was starting to wish that he hadn't run into him in such a deserted hallway...

Even though he knew it was a _really_ bad idea, he started to talk. "Well, it's just that you and Thor look so different, you see. Every Odinson ever has had blonde hair, blue eyes, bit of muscle. You, however..." Tony ran his eyes over the boy in front of him, taking in the black hair, green eyes, and lanky frame. He shrugged, trying to pretend that there wasn't a wand two inches from his nose. "It just seemed to fit."

Loki growled again, but to Tony's relief he whipped his wand out of his face. "Just don't mistake it again. _Ever._ I am an _Odinson._" He then stalked away in the direction of the Great Hall, and Tony let out a sigh of relief.

Note to self: don't bother that kid about his parents.

Tony shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He didn't have enough time to nick brooms for Miranda and Bruce anymore, so he headed back to the Astronomy tower.

He was so out of it that he ended up being the first one there.

Well, there went his record...


	10. Chapter X - Natasha

**Sorry for being late. Writers block, but I'm working through it. As always, thanks for everyone who read and/or reviewed!**

Natasha made her way out onto the castle grounds with the rest of the Slytherin first years. She listened to them gossip and scheme, but she couldn't bring herself to join in.

One of the boys walking near her elbowed her side, asking "Right, Natasha?" She nodded absently, starting to listen into their conversation. "See? He's a prick who needs to be knocked down a peg. I say we teach him a lesson."

The boy who was talking, Loki, was getting nods of agreement from everyone who was listening.

"Isn't his dad really powerful, though?" One skinny boy with wispy blonde hair asked tentatively. "Like, I heard he makes some seriously powerful weapons..."

Loki just smiled. "His father makes little toys for muggles. _My_ father is the one with real power - the Minister of Magic himself. And dear Mr. Stark shouldn't forget it."

Natasha snorted lightly and heard one of the other students - a girl by the name of Jennifer Glottwit - ask "So what're you gonna do to him, Loki?"

Loki shrugged and smirked, giving off the air that he hadn't a care in the world. "I have a plan, don't you worry..."

Whoever this Stark kid was, Natasha felt a bit sorry for him, looking at Loki's face. He was clearly relishing the image of his revenge on Stark. Loki was even licking his lips lightly, sending small shivers up Natasha's back.

He wasn't planning on _eating_ this kid was-

No. Natasha pushed the ridiculous image out of her head as the Slytherins entered the Quidditch pitch. The flying instructor was there, talking with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, who had already arrived. The professor wasn't wearing a teaching robe. Instead, he donned mesh shorts and a white T-shirt, with a small silver whistle hanging around his neck.

She also saw that he had a peg leg. Not just part of the calf, like muggle pirates, but the _entire_ leg. She could clearly see the wooden hinge where the knee would have been. There were gym socks pulled up as high as they could go - almost to the knees - and Natasha briefly wondered if they were some sort of attempt to hide the wooden leg.

If so, it had failed miserably.

She hung back with her House as they joined the other students. Soon, the Gryffindors arrived, making sure to stand as far away from her House as possible.

"Hello! I am your flying coach! You may call me Coach Gering and _only_ Coach Gering." He glared around at the crowd of students for a few seconds before continuing. "Before you receive your brooms, there are some basic rules. Failure to adhere to these rules will result in detention and the loss of twenty points from your House." Several groans followed this statement, and the Coach glared around again.

"First. You will not touch the brooms until you receive my instructions. You will not look at the brooms. You will not _think_ about the brooms. Second. If you somehow manage to achieve flight, you will not exceed thirty feet in hight or fly outside of this circle." He waved his wand, and a bright red circle appeared in the grass, at least one hundred feet in radius. "Third. Do _not_ injure yourself. Too much paperwork," he grumbled.

With that, Gering waved his wand above his head in a wide, sweeping gesture, and brooms came zooming out of the sky, stopping before each student, lying parallel to the ground. Several reached out to touch the brooms, and a piercing shriek crippled Natasha's hearing. She looked up to see the whistle in Gering's mouth, his cheeks red.

"I said _NO TOUCHING!"_ he screamed. The brooms all dropped to the ground, no longer hovering. "Now, I want you to hold your hand out over your broom and think _up_. Command it, feel it, _mean_ it."

Natasha held her hand out, feeling a bit foolish. Nonetheless, she thought _UP_ with all her might, but the broom remained stationary. She looked around to see a few students with satisfied smirks on their faces, Loki included, who had brooms in their hands. Others were staring at their brooms, red in the face from thinking too hard.

Natasha looked down at her broom again, thinking of the sky, imagining flying through the air. _UP._ Suddenly, she felt wood against her hand as the broom responded to her command. Her face lit up in a grin, she'd done it!

Coach Gering was nodding along. "Good, some of you nitwits have potential. Now, for those of you who could actually get your brooms in the air, I want you to mount them." He demonstrated, swinging his flesh-and-blood leg over the broom and sitting on it.

Natasha did the same, noting both how the broom seemed to hold her weight and how uncomfortable it was to sit on. If broom seats hadn't been invented yet, she had the potential to make millions of galleons...

Suddenly, Gering was up in the air, shouting something about "controlling the broom" while doing corkscrews. To Natasha, he appeared to be holding on for dear life, but she supposed that could have been what every experienced flyer looked like.

The piercing noise burst forth once again, and Natasha slammed her hands over her ears, somehow managing to keep her balance. "_Stark!"_ she heard Gering yell. "Did I _say_ you could start flying?"

Natasha looked up to see a boy with unruly brown hair flying around in circles above everyones' heads. _So that's who got on Loki's bad side..._she thought. The blue and bronze colors of his tie flapping around in the wind showed that he was a Ravenclaw. Interesting. Natasha had assumed that Loki would be after a Gryffindor...

Stark stuck his tongue out at Gering and floated lower, causing Gering to yell "Twenty points from Ravenclaw!" Stark leaned over an whispered something to Bruce, the boy she'd met on the train. Gering wheeled his broom around suddenly to face Stark again. "And _detention._ Tomorrow at two, my office. Anyone _else_ want to break the rules?"

Loki was sniggering beside her as Stark's face fell. "Oh, on a Saturday, too. This is too good, he almost punishes himself..." Loki floated a few feet away as Gering resumed his position in front of the first years.

"_Now._ Those of you who have gotten your brooms in the air, try to make them rise. _Slowly._ For the rest of you, just keep trying."

Natasha watched as the twenty or so students who had managed to mount their brooms furrowed their brows in concentration. Stark and Loki rose almost effortlessly, and she noticed a large Gryffindor do the same. Loki's brother, perhaps? Maybe not though, they had about as much resemblance as an apple and a carrot.

She turned her thoughts to the sky, figuring that if it had worked once it would work again. Sky, freedom, the wind blowing her hair back as she sat on the roof back home...she closed her eyes and saw clouds and birds, feeling her broom rising slowly.

She opened her eyes and saw that she was one of five who had managed to get their brooms in the air. Loki, Stark, Clint, the large Gryffindor, and herself.

Gering rose in the air and nodded seriously. "Not bad," was all he said. Probably the closest to a compliment that he was capable of uttering. "Try and steer around a bit, but _please_ be careful to not fall. Gets taken out of my paycheck..." he lowered himself to the ground to scold a Slytherin that had picked his broom up off of the ground with his hands.

The boys all seemed to be born flyers, zooming around without looking fazed. Stark was laughing like a maniac, his eyes bright as he dove and did spins. Natasha tried to move her broom forward with her thoughts, and was pleased when it responded.

She banked to the right, leaning her body to the side and holding onto the broom so tight that her knuckles were white. She pulled up suddenly as Stark whizzed by, almost colliding with her.

She cursed at him under her breath and gazed around, seeing that a few others had gotten their brooms in the air.

Suddenly, Stark was beside her, grinning at something on the ground. She looked down to see that the Ravenclaw boy, Bruce, had succeeded in getting his broom to float. "Hey, Brucie! You ever gonna join us up here?"

Bruce stuck his tongue out at Stark, who responded in kind. Natasha was about to return her attention to flying when she head Stark gasp and saw him drop suddenly.

Then, everything turned white for a second, and all she was aware of was the wind rushing around her and the ground coming up to meet her. _Fast_.

She pulled up short, a mere three feet from landing on a Hufflepuff girl. Someone had grabbed her wrist, and she became aware of pain radiating throughout her left arm.

Whoever it was lowered her gently to the ground, where she stood holding her shoulder and cringing slightly. She blinked a few times and tried to steady her breathing before looking up to see Clint landing his broom, looking at her worriedly.

The students had formed a circle around her and Clint, and Coach Gering pushed his way through, blowing his whistle incessantly. Clint had his hands over his ears, and Natasha saw more than heard him ask if she was okay. She shrugged her right shoulder as Gering finally made it through the crowd and quiet fell upon the field.

"Everyone _clear out._ Lessons are over, meet back here same time next Friday!" he yelled. The first years looked reluctant to leave, but after Gering made to blow the whistle again, they scattered in a hurry. The coach took out his wand, kneeling down beside Natasha and Clint. "Let me see your shoulder, Romanoff."

Natasha moved her right hand away, and gasped in relief as Gering tapped it. A cool sensation ran over her entire left arm, soothing the pain. She rubbed her shoulder again, expecting it to hurt, but the pain was completely gone.

"Thank you," she said to the coach, who nodded and shooed her and Clint off, muttering something about a mountain of paper. Natasha spun around and headed back to the castle, but Clint caught up with her.

"Hey, aren't you going to thank _me?"_ Natasha snorted and kept walking. "Jeez, you Slytherins..." He walked beside her in silence for a few more seconds before talking again. "It was that Slytherin kid, you know. The pale one with black hair?"

"Loki? What abo - Oh." It all came together in her mind, clicking into place. Loki had been aiming at Stark, but he had seen and ducked out of the way, causing the spell to hit her.

"He made you fall, I saw it all. Some bright white light flew out of his wand and hit you. Broke your broom, too, by the way." Clint was still gazing at her worriedly.

Natasha shook her head, knowing that she should be angry at Loki for casting the spell in the first place. But she couldn't fault him. Stark, honestly, struck her as an arrogant prick. Loki's actions were probably justified, even if they were a bit excessive.

No, she was slightly surprised to find that she blamed Stark. He had ducked the spell when he had _known_ that she was beside him. When he had known that it would hit her.

Stark had antagonized Loki in some way, and Natasha had taken the fall. Literally.

"I don't blame Loki, I blame Stark," was all she said to Clint.

He stopped dead in his tracks, but Natasha kept walking. He hurried to catch up, asking "Tony? Why? What did he have to do with it?"

"He caused it," she said before turning abruptly down a hallway. She felt more than saw Clint stop, watching her walk away from him.

"Well, you're welcome, anyway!" he shouted after her before walking away. Natasha rolled her eyes and continued on her way.


	11. Chapter XI - Clint

**Thanks again for following/reviewing/reading it means a lot!**

Clint wandered down the hall, thinking back on his conversation with Natasha. The redhead had a way of making his stomach do flips. There she was, fresh from falling from thirty feet in the air, and she just calmly walked away.

Any _other_ girl would have probably been in tears.

Hell, any other _human_ would have been in tears.

But not her. No, she walked away, seemingly unconcerned about the whole ordeal. And when he'd said that her housemate had caused the whole thing? She just blamed _Tony._ Tony, of all people! He hadn't done anything, Clint had seen him duck out of the way of the spell.

Why in the _hell_ would she blame him?

Before he even knew what he was doing, Clint was spinning around and running after Natasha. He _had_ to know why she blamed Tony. If the Ravenclaw had done something to hurt her, well, Clint wouldn't stand for it.

Because if Tony was truly at fault somehow, if he had purposely caused pain before, then he might again. He might seriously hurt someone.

And no one was getting hurt if Clint could help it.

He saw Natasha's red hair duck down a stairwell, and he picked up his speed. He rounded the corner, hurtling down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, however, he couldn't see her anywhere.

Suddenly, and hand grabbed his elbow, pulling him aside. He almost punched the faceless attacker before he saw her red curls.

"Why are you following me?" Natasha asked in a whisper.

"I wanted to know why you blamed Tony," he said. "I..." he paused, just now realizing how stupid this all sounded. "If he's at fault, then I want to stop him."

Natasha frowned slightly, then nodded. "Okay. He's the one who made Loki cast the spell in the first place." Clint opened his mouth to ask _how_, but she just shook her head. "I don't know what exactly he did, but he made Loki angry enough to risk getting in serious trouble."

"But whatever Tony did doesn't excuse trying to knock him off his broom at thirty feet in the air!" Clint practically yelled.

Natasha just shrugged. "Loki wouldn't risk it if he wasn't _seriously_ angry. He definitely strikes me as more careful than that, normally. Whatever Tony did struck a nerve, and you don't do that accidentally."

Clint frowned. This all seemed too...theoretical for him. "Let's just say that, yes, Tony did purposely piss this kid off. That _still_ doesn't excuse what he did. You or Tony could have died from that fall."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I see your point, but I believe that the problem originated with Stark. And I wish to have my revenge for that fall." Clint opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a hand, silencing him. "I will speak with Loki. But, Clint, if you're not going to help me, then stay out of my way."

With that, she turned and strode off down the hallway. Clint frowned to himself, trying to think. The image of Tony making fun of him in Astronomy flashed before his eyes, and he felt the pain all over again. Heard his brother yelling at him to never come back, that he never wanted to see Clint again, that he was too good for Barney now...he felt the pain of no longer having a family, a home.

"Hey!" he called out, almost against his will. Natasha turned around to face him, and the rest of his thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth. "I'll help you get back at Stark."

She nodded once and continued down the hall, and Clint was left wondering just what exactly he had agreed to.

~.~.~

"Hey, we're going to go visit Hagrid, want to come?" Clint looked up from his plate of demolished waffles to see Miranda and Bruce standing across the Hufflepuff table. "Waffles?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

Clint shrugged. "What, I can't have breakfast for dinner?" he asked, standing up. "Phil, wanna come too?"

Phil nodded his head eagerly, slurping up the last of his soup and standing in one motion. "Of course!"

They made their way through the hallways and out onto the grounds before Clint got up the nerve to ask "So, where's Tony?" He was still feeling a bit guilty about agreeing to help Natasha get revenge when he still didn't think it was entirely Stark's fault. Although the kid _did_ annoy him...

Bruce shrugged. "He's with Gering for detention. He was really annoyed too, he wanted to watch the Quidditch tryouts..."

"His fault for breaking the rules," Miranda sighed. "Besides, it's not like he could have made the team. First years aren't allowed, right?"

"What about Hammy Porter, though? Hagrid said something about him being on the Gryffindor team as a first year." Clint said.

"_Harry Potter,_ not Hammy Porter. Honestly, Clint, at least remember the name of the most famous wizard of the century. And he had special circumstances. I mean, he was _Harry freaking Potter._ Who wouldn't want him on their Quidditch team?" Phil said, waving his arms in the air in exasperation.

"Wait, so he got on the team just for being famous? That's jacked up." Clint frowned down at the path as they walked up to Hagrid's house. People who were so privileged that they never had to work for anything always got under Clint's skin.

Maybe that was why Tony had started to annoy him so much. Maybe that was why he'd agreed to help Natasha...

Clint shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"No, no. Yeh've got it all wrong." Hagrid's voice came from their right, off to the side of the house. He lumbered into view, still talking. "Harry was the bes' seeker I've ever seen, never min' bein' a firs' year."

"But what about the rules?" Phil asked. "First years aren't allowed to participate in tryouts."

Hagrid shrugged. "He didn'. He was helpin' out a friend - Professor Longbottom, actually - an' got recruited. No tryout needed." Hagrid opened the door to his house and ushered them inside with a wave of his large hand.

"So he was just...lucky, then?" Bruce asked.

"Aye. Harry's a lucky lad, tha's fer sure." Hagrid motioned for them to sit down, moving off to a room out of sight. Clint took the opportunity to look around, noting that the furniture in the main room looked old and worn, but also extremely comfortable. It was all he could do to not run over and bellyflop on the giant couch.

"Hey, Hagrid? I thought you said your house was small," Miranda asked as Hagrid came back into the room, holding a large plate of what looked like rocks.

"I said it used ter be small. I had it expanded after Olympe started comin' aroun' more often...made it more comfortable an' all tha'."

Clint grinned mischievously, looking up at Hagrid curiously. "Hagrid, are you _blushing?"_ If anything, his cheeks grew a darker shade of red, and Clint began cackling. "You _are._"

"So who's Olympe?" Phil asked.

"Ah, she's a lovely woman, she is..." Hagrid trailed off for a few seconds, staring off into the distance before suddenly snapping back to the present. "She's the Headmistriss of Beauxbatons. Visits ev'ry now an' then. Yeh know how it is..." he waved his hand at the table vaguely. "Anyway, have some Treacle Fudge. Made it special this mornin'."

Clint hurriedly grabbed a giant piece, shoving it in his mouth. For the entire month that Hagrid had been looking after him, Clint must have heard about the almighty Treacle Fudge dozens of times. And now he could finally try some!

He bit down, ready to savor the sweet flavor that was sure to follow...and stopped short. This-

There was no way that this could _possibly_ be fudge.

He saw the others' eyes grow wide as they reached the same conclusions. They, however, hadn't shoved an entire piece in their mouths, and therefore had the luxury of placing it back on their plates as though nothing had happened.

Clint, unfortunately, was stuck with what felt like a rock in his mouth.

He wanted to spit it out, but was afraid of offending Hagrid. He tried to knead the fudge with his teeth, but the stuff wouldn't budge. Phil must have noticed his distress, because he started peppering Hagrid with questions, diverting his attention away from how Clint was "likin' me cookin'."

"So, Hagrid," Phil said hurriedly. "I was wondering about Professor Fury. How did he get the eyepatch? Rumor has it that it was a dragon, but no one is sure."

Clint quickly spit the fudge out of his mouth and into his hand, tossing it into a potted plant behind him while Hagrid was distracted. Man, _what_ was that stuff made of?

"Ah, well...'s not really me place ter tell..." He was sheepishly rubbing the back of his head when Clint looked up again. "But 's not a secret, really..."

"Please, Hagrid?" Miranda asked, grinning up at him.

Hagrid frowned, then sighed. "Fine, fine. It happened a few years ago, back when Fury was an auror. He was trackin' a group of rogue werewolves, an', well...one snuck up behin' 'im. Surprised 'im an' got his eye. Magic's not much use on werewolf wounds, unfortunately..."

"So werewolves are real, then?" Clint asked.

Phil was the one who answered, nodding eagerly. "Of course they're real. They're usually portrayed in a bad light because of attacks and stuff, but...well, they're not all bad. Remus Lupin was one, and he was a really brave wizard!"

Hagrid was nodding solemnly. "Aye, Lupin was one of the braves' men I knew." He sighed heavily, sinking into one of the large chairs at the table. "'It's a shame tha' the Ministry got so tough on them..." He stood up suddenly, moving into the kitchen and coming back out with a large mug of strong-smelling liquid.

"I heard my mom talking about that. Something about non-humans not being allowed to attend Hogwarts?" Phil asked quietly.

Hagrid nodded slowly, talking a large gulp from his mug. "Aye. They're not allowed to have Ministry jobs, either. If they try, they get thrown in Azkaban fer a few weeks. Load of cowardly-"

"_So_. What's with the fake eye that Fury has? It's kinda freaky," Miranda said, gazing worriedly between Hagrid and Bruce. It was just then that Clint noticed how pale Bruce was, and how he seemed to be shaking slightly.

"Ah, 's a special eye like Mad Eye Moody had, back in the day...it can see enchantments an' the like, I thin'...ah, Mad Eye, yeh were a good man, too..." Clint was alarmed to notice that tears were slowly falling out of Hagrid's eyes, stopping in his beard and making it glisten and sparkle in the light.

Everyone else was looking at Hagrid with wide eyes and unsettled expressions, probably mirroring his own. All he could think was _tears. How do?_

Then Miranda was slowly reaching her hand across the table, patting Hagrid's softly. "T-Thanks, yeh four. Sorry..." He wiped his face with what looked like a tablecloth, blowing his nose loudly. "Yeh prob'ly have homework, righ'? I won' keep yeh, but thanks fer stoppin' by..."

He was still wiping his face as they edged their way out the door, and Clint thought he heard another sob begin as they were walking towards the castle. "Should we have, uh, left him like that?" Miranda asked.

Clint shrugged. "You're free to go back if you want to." She frowned but kept walking beside Bruce, who was still pale and shaking slightly. Clint might have thought it was from the cold if it hadn't only been mid-September. "You okay?" he asked.

Bruce nodded, and Clint noticed him clenching his hands in an effort to stop the shaking. Didn't work too well, though. "J-Just the werewolf stuff, I guess. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"There's no reason to be afraid. Hagrid said they weren't allowed in Hogwarts, so there's no way they'd be able to get in here, right?" Miranda asked.

Bruce just shivered a bit more and nodded slowly. Clint wondered how bad werewolves really were. If they were like in those movies he'd seen with his brother...bloodthirsty monsters bent on killing or changing all humans...

He found himself shivering as well as they entered the castle, and was kind of thankful that werewolves weren't allowed at school. Bloodthirsty monsters or not, he felt safer without taking the chance...


	12. Chapter XII - Bruce

**Really long chapter, lots happens. Please review and thanks for reading!**

Bruce stumbled out of the forest, grateful that he had been able to make his way out before dawn. The path of destruction left by his other, furrier, self was easy enough to backtrack. Last time he had changed, he had awoken so deep in the forest that he hadn't emerged until early afternoon. The fact that he had stayed closer to the castle this time both relieved and worried him.

He quickly made his way over to the hollow log that he had hidden his clothes in the night before. He shrugged them on, grateful for the warmth and comfort that they provided. He was human again, no one would find out his secrets. It would all be okay.

He hoped.

He slowly made his way back to the castle, carefully avoiding Hagrid's house. His lights were on, and Bruce wasn't up to being interrogated about why he was breaking curfew.

The sky was beginning to turn a dark purple color in the east, and Bruce figured that is was around five thirty in the morning. That was good. He had just enough time to try and treat his wounds and change clothes before Tony woke up for breakfast.

He stifled a yawn as he entered the castle, trying to keep alert for teachers. Somehow, he managed to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower unnoticed, and he quietly knocked on the brass handle. The raven's mouth opened and asked a riddle in a voice that was a bit too loud for Bruce's liking.

"_I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place."_

_Ugh._ Bruce closed his eyes and slammed his head into the door with a soft _thunk_. He didn't need this right now. He could barely manage to stand up, let alone answer this stupid riddle. He sighed, trying to think, envisioning the riddle in his-

"E. The letter E."

He heard the raven mutter _"Very good,"_ as the door swung open, revealing the blue and copper common room. Before Bruce could step inside though, he heard a screech of delight come from directly behind him.

"What's this? Little Banner out of bed? Doing some nasty prank for Halloween? Ooooh what _fun!"_

"Peeves!" Bruce whispered loudly. "Shut _up!"_

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he'd made a mistake. Peeves's smile grew wide and menacing as he whispered. "Oh, you wants me to be quiet? I can do quiet." And to Bruce's horror Peeves produced a bell from who-knows-where and started swinging it around, making enough noise to wake the entire castle. "STUDENT OUT OF BED, STUDENT OUT OF BED!"

Bruce quickly ran into the common room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The teachers would probably be on their way soon with punishment on their minds. Bruce shook his head, trying to banish the negative thoughts. He had enough problems without worrying about detention as well. Bruce made his way quickly across the rug and through the archway that led to the boy's rooms.

He opened the door to the room he shared with Tony, getting the first aid kit and his pajamas out of his trunk. He didn't bother trying to be quiet - the way Tony snored, Bruce would be surprised if the kid woke up for a herd of hippogryffs rampaging through the room.

He closed the door behind him, making his way to the boy's bathroom. The common room bathrooms were fancier than the ones in the rest of the castle, and, more importantly, more private.

Each stall was like it's own bathroom, complete with everything someone could want, including a bathtub and shower. Bruce closed the door behind him, locking it with a flick of his wand and a muttered _"Colloportus."_

He turned the shower water on as hot as he dared, trying to clean off the dirt and grime from the forest. The hot water made his scrapes and cuts sting, but he tried to ignore the pain by focusing on the idea of _clean._

He knew it was stupid, but he felt like the hot water was the only way to wash of the events of last night, the only way that he could pretend that it didn't happen. The only way to pretend that he was human.

He got out and toweled off, then started working on bandaging his wounds. He tied off some gauze on a particularly bad scrape on his arm, wincing from the pressure. As he shrugged on the loose T-shirt that doubled as his sleep ware, he couldn't help but wish that healing spells weren't so advanced. It would make everything so much easier...

He had contemplated going to the nurse, but he knew that she would eventually notice the monthly occurrence of his visits. All she would have to do was put them together with the full moon, and-

Bruce shuddered, trying to banish the thought from his mind. No one would find out. He'd be safe. If anyone noticed his bandages he'd just say that he'd fallen down the stairs or something.

He sighed and looked in the mirror, seeing a large bruise on his cheekbone. You could get that from falling down the stairs, right? Whatever, better everyone think he was clumsy and unlucky that they know the truth.

Then who knew what would happen to him.

He exited the bathroom and made his way back to his room, collapsing in his bed. His brain was so sluggish from lack of sleep that he doubted he'd be able to stay awake through Defense Against the Dark Arts, even with the few hours of rest that he could get during his morning break.

Tony was awake, getting dressed for breakfast, and Bruce waved off his attempts to get Bruce to join him. "Just wake me up before Defense, mkay?" he asked blearily.

He didn't wait for an answer, instead opting to lose himself in a thankfully dreamless sleep.

~.~.~

Bruce groaned as someone roughly shook his shoulder, bringing him into the waking world. "Five more minutes..." he muttered, trying to roll over.

"No can do, Brucie. Class starts in ten minutes, but if you really want to get on Fury's bad side, be my guest..."

He sighed, knowing that the annoying voice was right. Fury was not someone Bruce wanted to piss off, especially given Fury's history and Bruce's...condition. He rubbed his eyes blearily and stretched his limbs before finally sitting up. His muscles complained and his stomach spun, but he ignored it, instead standing up and throwing on clean robes.

He yawned blearily as he attempted to tie his tie, giving up when he looked down to see the tanged mess. "Here," he heard Tony say before a few pieces of warm toast were pushed into his face. "I got bored and wanted to see how much I could fit in my pockets, but then I realized I wasn't hungry, so I guess you can eat my stolen plunder."

Bruce rolled his eyes and muttered his thanks, eating the toast in record time before trying to figure out his tie again. Tony watched him struggle for a few seconds longer before rolling his eyes and getting out his wand. He muttered a spell and Bruce's tie immediately began straightening itself out, soon forming a perfect knot around his neck. "I could have gotten it, you know," Bruce said defensively.

"Uh-huh. I just don't want to be late to Fury's class. The guy already has it out for me, no telling what he'll do if we're late..." Tony trailed off as he dragged Bruce through the common room and down the tower stairs.

The hallways were almost deserted, most of the other students in class, and Tony started jogging, obviously not looking forward to potentially getting another detention. Bruce wanted to run after him, but he was just too tired. His legs were barely holding him upright; he really didn't want to try moving at any speed faster than a leisurely stroll.

Tony looked back, stopping, torn between his friend and his desire to have a free night for once. Bruce waved him on, and was thankful to see that he listened.

It took him another seven minutes to negotiate the hallways and stairs, eventually shuffling into Fury's class and plopping down next to Tony. Man his legs were killing him. What had he done last night, run a marathon?

"So good of you to join us, Banner. That'll be twenty points from Ravenclaw, I think. Make this a habit and you'll be joining Stark in detention."

Bruce nodded and muttered his apologies while looking at Tony out of the corner of his eye, silently asking the question. Tony just shrugged, whispering "Not my fault he has it out for me."

"Well you didn't have to call him a cyclops during the first week of classes," he whispered back, starting to copy down the notes on fairies that were on the blackboard.

"Well he is," Tony whispered back. "And here, you can just take my notes. I'll steal Miranda's later."

"You will not," she whispered from the other side of Tony. "Do your own work."

Bruce felt more than heard Tony's eyes roll. "Nah, it's no fun that way."

He took Tony's notes gratefully and continued to write as Professor Fury describes the habitats and patterns of fairies, how they could lay up to fifty eggs at once...

As Fury strode back and forth in the front of the classroom, Bruce noticed how his cloak was always billowing behind him. It never billowed like that with any other teacher. Actually, why was Fury even wearing his cloak indoors? It wasn't cold in the castle. It was really warm, like the fur of a dog...

And suddenly Fury was a dog, striding around in a large cloak and growling at everyone. No, not a dog. A wolf. Fury lunged at the students, and then Bruce was the wolf, tearing apart his classmates, showering everything in their blood. But he couldn't stop, he couldn't-

"Mister Banner, is my lecture on fairies really so boring that it made you sleep?" Bruce jerked back into the real world, ad felt such a wave of relief at still being human that he failed to answer the professor's question. "Ten points from Ravenclaw and you'll join Mister Stark in detention with me tonight, I think."

Bruce sighed but nodded. He hated it when he fell asleep during class, afraid that he would cry out from his nightmares and give himself away. But nodding off really was inevitable after the full moon.

"It's not his fault that he didn't sleep well," Miranda said quietly.

"And it's not his fault that this lecture is so boring," Tony said much louder.

"Two nights of detention, then, Stark. And Miss Callahan, I suggest keeping your thoughts about my teaching methods to yourself unless you feel like joining your friends." Bruce kicked Tony under the table, hoping that he got the message to _shut up._

Thankfully, miraculously, Tony didn't say anything else. But Miranda did. "Well why not? I don't have anything better to do tonight..." It was all Bruce could do not to slam his head onto his desk. _Why_ did he have such stubborn friends?

Fury nodded to her from the front of the classroom. "Very well, then. Now, back to the beneficial properties of fairy excrement."

He somehow managed to stay awake through the rest of class, taking diligent notes even though the words meant nothing to him in his tired state.

They were all gathering their things for lunch, and Bruce waited until they were in the corridors to say what was on his mind. "Why in the world did you _want_ detention?" he asked Miranda.

She just shrugged. "I'd just be sitting in the common room bored out of my mind without you two. Plus from what Tony's always saying, detention sounds kinda fun."

Bruce snorted. "Tony lied."

"I did _not_. There really _was_ a flood of bubble juice in the Charms classrooms. And I really _was_ forced to drink about two liters," Tony cried indignantly.

"Sure, Tony, sure. What about your two Gryffindor friends, though? Couldn't you just hang with them if you got bored?" Honestly, Bruce didn't understand why they both just didn't keep their mouths shut. He really wasn't worth all the trouble.

"Victoire and Pepper? They've got double potions with the Slytherins."

"Just let it go, Bruce. We're in this together, so deal with it," Tony said before grabbing his and Miranda's arms. "Not hurry _up_ before all the good stuff is gone!"

Bruce rolled his eyes but let Tony pull him along, trying valiantly to keep his eyes open and not yawn too noticeably. He probably failed, but whatever. He was too tired to care at this point...

~.~.~

All he remembered from detention the night before was Fury leaving them alone to "thoroughly clean" the floor of the Great Hall with only buckets of water and sponges. After a few sixth years had somehow managed to get multicolored powder all across it.

And then Bruce supposed he had fallen asleep because next thing he knew Tony and Miranda were skating around on sponge skates, getting soapy water _everywhere._ Colorful bubbles were floating around the hall, shining in the torchlight.

He'd tried to help them clean - he really had - but he'd just been so _exhausted._ Just thinking about doing this month after month made him want to curl up in a ball and go back to-

"BRUUUUUUUUUCE"

Something heavy thumped on top of him, screaming a war cry, and Bruce groaned. "Tony, no classes means _sleeping in._ Now go away before I hex you."

"No can do. You slept all say yesterday, and besides. It's HALLOWEEN." Bruce could feel Tony jumping up and down on his bed, making him feel a bit seasick. He attempted to bundle up in his blanket and bury himself deeper, but Tony just ripped them off. "None of that now!"

Bruce stared blankly at Tony for a few seconds before diving for his glasses. Nope. He wasn't mistaken. "Tony, is your hair...orange?"

Tony grinned madly, looking quite pleased with himself. "Yup! Cleaning up all that colored powder last night gave me some ideas. Go have a look in the mirror."

Bruce could feel his eyes widen. "You didn't..." before scrambling off to the bathrooms. He _did_. "TONY I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" he screamed in frustration.

"You like it, huh? I thought about making it purple, but I think green suits you _much_ better," he said, leaning against the bathroom doorway.

"Where's my wand? _Where_ is my wand, Tony? I'm going to curse you so hard once I get this stuff out..." Bruce stalked back to their room, muttering threats under his breath while Tony cackled from behind him.

It wasn't just that his hair was green. Bruce would have been okay with a nice, calm forest green or something. But no. Tony just _had_ to dye it a bright, radioactive kill-me-now green.

Heck, Bruce wouldn't be surprised if it glowed in the dark.

Tony somehow managed to convince Bruce not to kill him while simultaneously dragging him down to the Great Hall for some breakfast.

It was horrible.

Everyone kept staring and laughing behind his back. Miranda giggled for about five minutes straight when she saw them, snapping pictures with her camera. And while Bruce kept sinking lower and lower in his seat, trying not to be noticed, Tony seemed to be basking in the attention.

Miranda eventually took pity on him and ran up to her room for a spare hat. Which Bruce promptly jammed down on his head, eternally grateful. A few green locks still stuck out in various places, but it was better than nothing.

"Tony, _come on._ Tell me how to get it back to normal!"

"No can do, Brucie. Secrets of the trade."

"I don't care about your trade, I only care about what spell to curse you with..."

Tony just stuck his tongue out at Bruce and took another bite of his sausage. Bruce had his wand out and was about to use it to tickle-torture Tony, but Miranda whispered "Teacher coming," and Bruce hastily stuffed it back into his pocket.

And so the day went.

Everywhere there were other people around, Tony kept yanking the hat off of Bruce's head. In the library, in the corridors, in the middle of lunch...Phil's large Gryffindor friend kept calling him "A Green Beast!" in a very loud voice. Tony just grinned when upperclassmen called him Pumpkin Head, yelling "Halloween spirit!" in return.

Practically everyone in the entire school probably knew him as "That Green Kid" now.

Later, he was holed up in his room buried under piles of blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a book on conspiracy theories, perfectly intent on skipping the feast. Tony and Miranda, however, had different ideas.

"You can't miss the feast, Bruce! _Giant Pumpkins!"_

Bruce sighed. "When my hair is a less...offensive color, then I'll attend the feast. Deal?"

Tony sighed and shook his head. "It's not going to wear off for another fifty-six hours or so. I thought you'd like it I swear!" Tony covered his head as Bruce chucked his pillow at him.

"C'mon, Bruce. If you just keep the hat on nobody will notice..." Miranda pleaded. "They're gonna have a huge pie, and rumor has it that some upperclassmen sneaked in some butterbeer."

He was tempted, but...he shook his head resolutely. "No. Tony'll just yank the hat off again."

"No I won't I swear! I'll even make an Unbreakable Vow if that's what it takes. C'mon, Brucie, _please?"_

He sighed again. "_Fine_, but I swear if you take this thing off of my head you'll be begging for Crucio before I'm done with you."

They hurried into the hall, hearing cheering from clear across the castle. It turned out that the upperclassmen hadn't needed to sneak in any butterbeer, Headmaster Snixley had arranged for several large casks to be brought in.

The whole Hall was bathed in fog, and the floating candles gave off an eerie orange glow. There were cobwebs (that turned out to be made of sugar) and chocolate spiders covering the tables and walls. Hagrid had grown nine massive pumpkins that were big enough to sit in, and several students actually _were._

Sometime through the meal, Tony dragged Bruce and Miranda up to stuff themselves in the largest pumpkin, managing to convince a Hufflepuff to snap a photo of them.

Everything was amazing and surreal, and Bruce found himself relaxing for perhaps the first time since he had arrived at Hogwarts. He ate and laughed and wandered around to talk to Phil and Clint a bit.

It was great.

Too bad it couldn't last.

He was just wandering back to where Tony was fiddling with Miranda's camera, tapping it with his wand a few times and muttering what Bruce assumed were spells. Suddenly pictures started flying out, fluttering around the Ravenclaw table an onto the floor. Tony gathered a few with a wave of his wand while Miranda ran around picking up the ones that he'd missed.

Bruce was about to help her when he heard a few gasps from the other side of the Hall. He glanced around, but no one else seemed to be concerned.

Then the screams started.

He whipped around quickly, but was only able to see people swarming around the Gryffindor table. He heard teachers calling for order, then a loud _POP_ pierced the room, originating from right above Tony.

The next thing Bruce knew, Tony was in a heap on the ground with a small blonde boy laying on top of him. The boy looked around, utterly confused, and Bruce found himself helping the kid up off of Tony.

Only to find blood coating his hands.

_Wha-?_ For a few seconds, Bruce thought he was dreaming again, having another nightmare. But it wasn't ending, he wasn't waking up. This was _real_ blood, and those were _real_ screams around him.

_What was happening?_

Bruce quickly realized that the blood wasn't his, it was coming from several wounds on the small boy's hands, which were gripping a wand in tightly clenched fists. Tony was picking himself up off the floor, glancing between the boy and the frantic students running past. Miranda seemed to notice the blood, too, because she was taking off her tie and wrapping it around the kid's wounds.

"I need everyone to calm down, please! Perfects, please escort your Houses to their common rooms immediately. Madame Willis, if you would please go to the infirmary, we will send injured students there." The headmaster's voice broke through the chaos, but Bruce barely heard it over his racing thoughts.

He'd just started actually _looking_ at the blonde kid. Something seemed..._off_ about him. His uniform seemed wrong somehow...almost older. The tie shape was slightly differently, and his clothes seemed to be made of a different material. And his shoes looked like something Bruce's grandfather would wear.

_Is he not from Hogwarts? But then how did he get here? You can't apparate into the school, and the floo network wouldn't drop you off mid-air. But he looks like a Hogwarts student, just-_

Bruce's thoughts were cut off as he noticed Fury striding toward them through the quickly-emptying Great Hall. He thought he heard Tony and Miranda saying something to him, but he just stood there, staring at the mysterious kid. _Where had he come from?_

And then Fury was there, kneeling beside the boy, telling the Ravenclaws to go with the rest of their House. Tony was shaking his head stubbornly, asking something about the food.

Bruce's frustration was almost tangible. A boy just fell from _thin air_ and Tony was worried about food?

It was only then that Bruce noticed the empty tables. Not a minute before there had been pies and goblets, giant hams and potatoes, a great feast spread across the four tables. Now there wasn't even a crumb.

"It's none of your concern, Stark, now _go,"_ Fury growled.

"This kid just _fell on me._ Whatever happened _is_ my concern!"

Fury looked up from where he was healing the boy's wounds long enough to glare at Tony. "Stark, Banner, Callahan, back to your common room _now."_

Tony grumbled as Bruce pulled him away, Miranda following quietly behind them. They caught up with the rest of their House in the corridors, everyone theorizing amongst themselves about what had just happened.

The consensus seemed to be that something had happened at the Gryffindor table, but beyond that thoughts ranged from Peeves getting carried away with a prank to Voldemort's return from the dead. Very few, however, seemed to have noticed the strange blonde boy.

Bruce shook his head and sighed as they climbed the steps. _Something_ was happening, and knowing his luck he'd end up right in the middle of it all.


	13. Chapter XIII - Steve

**WOW thanks so much for all the kind reviews! Hope you guys enjoy even if it's a bit short this time.**

Steve watched as the boy he'd fallen on left with his friends, leaving him alone with the large one-eyed man and a few other adults who were wandering around the room.

He had tried talking, asking what had happened and who these people were, but nothing would come out. Everything was so different, so..._wrong._ Who were all these people? Why didn't he know anyone?

What had just happened?

The man kneeling in front of him put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay with me, you're okay." It wasn't until then that Steve realized he was slipping sideways, almost falling over. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. "...happened?" he heard the man saying.

"W-What?" Steve stuttered, grateful that his voice still worked.

"I need you to tell me what happened. What do you remember?" The man asked in a stern voice, his hand never leaving Steve's shoulder.

"I, um..." Steve could feel his eyes growing wider as his brain worked furiously to come up with memories. "T-There's...I don't..."

"It's okay, son. I know this is difficult but we need to know how to help you." There was a new voice behind him, and Steve turned his head to see a short, round man with a handlebar mustache walking toward them.

"I-I don't..." Steve trailed off as the mustache man held out his hand to him, and Steve automatically moved to shake it.

"My name is Jonas Snixley, and I'm Headmaster here. This is Professor Nicholas Fury," the short man said, nodding his head to the scary one-eyed man. "What might your name be?"

"I-I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. But...this is Hogwarts, isn't it? What happened to Headmaster Dippet?" Steve could feel his breaths grow faster and shallower as he glanced wildly around the room. It was definitely the Great Hall, but the Halloween decorations were different from a few minutes ago, from before he'd fallen and all these strange people had suddenly appeared and started asking him questions..."W-What's going on?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." A tall, thin woman wearing all purple came striding up. She spoke with a crisp, stern voice that called for complete cooperation.

"Ah, Professor Umbridge, meet Steve. He was just about to tell us how he wound up here," Snixley said to the woman.

Umbridge...why did that name sound so familiar? And why was the one-eyed man - Fury? - looking at him so strangely?

"S-Sir, I don't..." Steve muttered weakly. There was just too much happening at once. Hadn't he just been talking with Peggy, enjoying the Halloween feast? Where had all these new people come from, and where had Peggy gone?

"Steve, could you tell me what year it is?" Fury asked softly.

"It's 1942, why?" he asked. But the looks they were giving each other...something was wrong. "Right? It's 1942, right?" He was becoming more and more frantic with every passing second, the teachers' looks changing from confusion to understanding and pity.

"Son, I'm afraid it's not 1942. It's 2012," Snixley said. "Headmaster Dippet has been dead for many years-"

"_NO!"_ Steve yelled, throwing his hands over his ears and slamming his eyes shut. He wouldn't believe it, he _couldn't._ But, oh, it all made so much sense. Why everything was so different from a few moments ago, why he didn't know anyone, why everything - even the air he was breathing - felt _wrong._

"Steve I know this is hard but I need you to tell me everything that you remember," Snixley said quietly, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve just shrugged it off, shaking his head. This all had to be some elaborate spell, some potion-induced illusion. It couldn't be real, he couldn't have gone sixty years into the future that was just-

"Oh, this is taking too long. I'll go get the Veritaserum," the tall, thin woman said, quickly turning on her heels and striding off across the Hall.

Before she got far, however, a voice rang across the room, shouting "Umbridge, no!" Steve opened his eyes and looked up to see a tall, awkward looking man in a dirty sweater vest walking quickly to intercept her. "Whatever just happened, _my_ House was targeted. This boy is of _my_ House if his tie is anything to go by, so _I_ will be in charge of what happens to him."

The two teachers stared intently at each other for a few tense seconds, seeming to fight without touching their wands. The tension was only broken when Fury spoke up. "Longbottom is right, Doris. You have no place to use Veritaserum on this boy, he has done nothing wrong that we know of and has shown no indication of hiding anything from us."

The purple woman didn't seem to like that very much. She seemed to grow a few inches taller, puffing herself out as her face grew dark and threatening. "I am Deputy Headmistress and I say that this boy is a threat. He suddenly appears under _extremely_ questionable and unrealistic circumstances, claiming amnesia, at the _exact _same moment when four of our students dropped unconscious for unknown reasons? It is too coincidental, and in my opinion he needs to be thoroughly questioned."

"Now, Doris, please calm down. This boy has been through enough already without having Veritaserum shoved down his throat," Snixley - _the current Headmaster, not Dippet anymore,_ Steve numbly reminded himself - stood up, walking over to Umbridge and sweater vest man. "You are _Deputy_ Headmistress, and as _Headmaster_ I say that this boy needs rest. Longbottom, if you will take him to the infirmary, please. I think it best if the other students don't pester him with questions until he feels more up to it."

"But Sir if he knows something-"

"We will question him tomorrow, when he has had time to adjust. Now, if I may discuss some issues with you in private, Doris..." the Headmaster and scary woman walked off together, sweater vest man glaring after them before hurrying over to Steve.

He knelt down and held out his hand, which Steve stared at blankly. "Hello, my name is Professor Longbottom. I'm Gryffindor's Head of House."

Steve looked up, glancing back and forth between Longbottom and Fury. "Is it really 2012? How did I...It was just..."

He could feel himself slipping sideways, see his vision darkening as he lost consciousness. The last thing he was aware of was strong arms wrapping around him, soothing sounds reaching his ears as he became blissfully unaware of everything.


	14. Chapter XIV - Phil

**Really short chapter, sorry. Clint and Phil weren't in the mood to talk, I guess.**

"Did you see them drop though? Phil, that was...that was scary." Clint was curled up on his bed, bundled in blankets, holding a mug of hot chocolate.

Phil nodded absently, staring into his own mug, watching as the little marshmallows floated and melted, making light swirling patterns in the dark, sweet goodness. "What exactly happened? I didn't see much, I was watching Thor try to fit a whole pie in his mouth..."

Clint frowned, shrugging. "I was watching that fourth year who helped us find that book in the library last month? He was waving at someone across the Hall, then he just froze. He grabbed his throat, and his eyes got big and he just...he just dropped." Phil saw Clint's hands shaking, gripping the mug to try and hide it.

After a few seconds, Clint spoke up again, much softer. "Do you...think that they're dead? I-I saw at least two Gryffindors drop, but something was going on at the Ravenclaw table, too..." Without saying a word, Phil moved from his bed onto Clint's, sitting down at the bottom end. "Phil, did I just watch someone die?"

Phil shook his head quickly. "Snixley was calling to take them to the infirmary, remember? He wouldn't do that if they were...well, they're not. I know it."

Clint smiled softly at him, thankful. "What was that, though? What...What happened?"

Phil shook his head slowly. "I saw less than you did. Didn't see anything, really. But in the corridors I heard something about a kid falling from thin air. Wild rumors, I guess..."

Clint shrugged again and continued staring down at his hot chocolate. Phil put a hand on Clint's shoulder, awkwardly patting it. "It'll be okay. Madame Willis will heal them and the teachers will figure out what happened." Clint just nodded and continued to stare into his mug silently.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door and Phil looked up to see a third year - Daryl - standing there. "Professor Johnson says that Headmaster Snixley wants all of the students in the Great Hall at nine tomorrow morning, just so you know."

"Thanks," Phil called as Daryl left, probably going to tell the next room of students. "See? He's probably going to explain what happened and say that the Gryffindors will be fine."

Clint didn't answer, and Phil looked over to see him leaning against the wall, eyes closed, blankets wrapped tightly around him and breathing deeply. Phil smiled, gently grabbing the mug of now-lukewarm chocolate out of Clint's hands as he stood up.

"Everything will be fine tomorrow," he whispered as he lay down in his own bed, hoping desperately that he was right.


	15. Chapter XV - Steve

**Midterms are coming up so updates might take a bit longer, sorry.**

**As always, please review and thanks for reading!**

Steve sat in the infirmary bed, staring out at the night sky. The stars were the same, the moon, the sky...so why was everything else so different?

He had awoken an hour or so ago to utter silence and darkness. He'd thought the chaos and confusion in the Great Hall had all been some sort of horrible nightmare. He'd thought he was still in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, Bucky Bear beside him and dreaded Transfiguration class in the morning.

Unfortunately, he'd realized pretty quickly that it hadn't all been a dream. He wasn't in his bed, Bucky Bear wasn't around anywhere, and - oh, yeah, - he was stuck seventy years in the future.

He couldn't seem to get over the fact that everyone in his life was either dead or extremely old. His parents, god his parents...They were dead, and they probably never knew what had happened to him. They probably thought _he_ had died on that night. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye, to tell them how much he loved them...

And all of his friends were probably so old they couldn't hear or see or anything, if they were alive at all. Peggy would be, what? Eighty-one? She'd lived a life, made friends, probably gotten married - all without him.

Life hadn't stopped.

And now Steve was stuck here, no way to go back, no way to fix everything. He was trapped in this time, and he didn't know if he could shoulder his losses.

Maybe he _was _still in shock. Shouldn't he be crying or something? Shouldn't he be screaming and flinging spells in frustration or _something_ to numb the pain?

But all he could seem to do was stare out the window, his thoughts racing around his head in never ending circles. Were his parents happy before they died? Was Peggy happy now? Was she even still alive? And, the most prevalent thought of all - Was there any way to go back?

Steve sighed and shook his head, glancing about his surroundings for something to distract him from the endless spiral of thoughts. All he saw was fabric enclosing his bed, probably for privacy as he slept.

He stood up and slowly walked over to the curtains, trying to be as silent as possible. He peeked through, but all he saw were more closed curtains, probably containing other students. Hadn't the sweater vest man - his new Head of House, right? - said something about Gryffindors being injured?

And that tall purple lady had seemed pretty convinced that he'd had something to do with that. Steve shivered, hoping that the other students were okay, hoping that he hadn't caused anyone harm.

Just when his thoughts were starting to turn toward the never ending circle again, he heard the door to the infirmary creak open slowly, like someone was trying to be quiet. If that was the case, they were failing miserably.

Steve figured it was the nurse coming to check on her patients, trying not to wake them up, so he slipped back into bed and sank down beneath the covers. He didn't want anyone to know that he was awake at this time of night, lest they give him a sedative to help him sleep or something.

Then he heard heavy footsteps and whispered curses, which was his first clue that it wasn't the nurse checking up on everyone. The second was the large, scraggly beard that came into view as the curtains moved aside. Steve saw what appeared to be an extremely large man wearing a heavy coat with thick, earth-toned clothes underneath. He couldn't see much of the man's face through his slit eyes, but something seemed oddly familiar about him.

The man sat down in a chair beside Steve's bed, muttering "Ah, Steve. What have yeh gotten yerself inter..."

Most of the man was in shadow, but something about his accent, his scraggly hair and rough appearance..."Rubeus?" Steve cried, bolting upright.

The man jumped, obviously startled by Steve's outburst. "Sorry, but...you are Rubeus, right? Rubeus Hagrid?"

"Aye, I am that. An' yeh're Steve Rogers, righ'? The boy who vanished me third year at Hogwarts," he whispered.

Steve blinked a few times in surprise, not expecting Rubeus to remember him. "U-Um. I guess. I mean, it feels like I was eating pumpkin pie just a few hours ago, not...not seventy years ago."

Hagrid nodded a few times, staring out the window with a glazed expression on his face. "Hey, Rubeus? Why are you here?" Steve asked.

He glanced back toward Steve, shrugging. "I work here now, have fer a long time." His face lit up in a grin as he said, "I'm the groundskeeper an' the Care o' Magical Creatures Professor."

"You're a professor?" Steve felt himself smiling for the first time in, well, seventy years. "That's awesome! Does this mean I have to call you Professor Hagrid now?"

"Nah, yeh can call me wha'ever yeh want ter. Most people jus' call me Hagrid, though."

"Hagrid it is, then," Steve stuck out his hand, and Hagrid shook it, his large hand completely engulfing Steve's much smaller one. They sat in silence for a few more seconds until Steve spoke up quietly. "Hagrid, do you remember what happened that night?"

Hagrid wouldn't meet his eyes, dancing between the bedsheets and the wall beside him. "Yeah, but I dunno if yeh should know yet. Yeh've had a big shock ter yer system already, Steve." Hagrid stood up, patting Steve on the head gently.

"Hagrid, I need to know what happened, I just...I can't stop thinking about it."

"I know, Steve, I know. But I should leave now, prob'ly shouldn'ta come in the firs' place, honestly. Jus' wanted ter make sure yeh were all righ' was all...wasn' expecting yeh ter be awake, though."

Hagrid moved to stand up, and Steve felt rising panic. As he started scrambling to follow him, Hagrid gently pushed him back into the bed. "None o' that, now. I'll tell yeh when yeh're stronger, don' worry. Come by me cabin when they let yeh out an' I'll tell yeh then."

"But-"

Hagrid just shook his head, putting a finger to his lips, and it was then that Steve realized he had shouted the word. "Can I ask a favor, Steve? The Headmaster's gonna come later ter question yeh - nothin' to be worried abou' now - but could yeh please leave out that I was here? No one's supposed ter be in here, an' I'm already on thin ice with the administration 'round here."

Anger rolled around inside of Steve. He hadn't asked for this - for _any_ of this. If it were up to him, he'd be in his bed right now after having a good time at the feast with Peggy and the other Gryffindors. But he wasn't. He was here, and they were all either really old or really dead.

And all he wanted to know was what had happened - maybe he could figure out a way back. But instead of helping him, Hagrid blew him off, and asked for _his_ help of all things. A _favor._

Steve nodded at Hagrid, showing that he would keep his secret. But he fully intended to tell the first person he saw that Hagrid broke the rules.

Maybe then he'd be more willing to help when someone needed it.

After Hagrid left Steve went back to staring out the window, the anger slowly ebbing out of him. Hagrid had broken the rules, risked getting in trouble, just to make sure that he was okay. Him. A kid from the very distant past that he had hardly known.

Steve sighed to himself, a hollow feeling taking over his mind. He just didn't care anymore. Didn't care if he ended up helping Hagrid. Didn't care if the headmaster thought he had somehow hurt the other Gryffindors. Didn't care about anything.

He just wanted to go back. Back to Peggy and Bucky Bear and _home._


	16. Chapter XVI - Natasha

**Sorry for the wait. Midterms are over, so I should be able to update more often now! As always, thanks to all who have read and reviewed!**

Natasha knew something weird was going on, as did most of the other Slytherins. She had sat in the common room last night, listening to various theories about what had happened flying around the room.

No one seemed to know exactly what had happened. Some said that they saw Gryffindors falling, others said they saw a few Ravenclaws hit the ground as well. A few, like Natasha, had noticed the food disappear a few seconds after the chaos had started.

Honestly, some of the things the Slytherins were spouting seemed far-fetched to her. A few claimed to have seen a boy appear suddenly in mid-air. The others had quickly criticized them, however, pointing out that you can't apparate inside of Hogwarts.

Natasha had retired to her room after Fury had come in, telling the Slytherins to be in the Great Hall at nine the following morning for some announcement. She didn't really care what the headmaster had to say, she had pretty much figured out what had happened on her own.

One thing that everyone was sure of was that Gryffindors had fallen, presumably unconscious. The fact that the food had disappeared so quickly led Natasha to believe that it had something to do with their misfortune. Why else would a professor pause to make it all disappear when their students were in such need of help?

She figured it was poison of some kind, and seeing as only Gryffindors had been affected...it was probably someone from her House that had been behind it.

And this was what she believed Snixley was going to talk about tomorrow morning. She figured he'd explain that they had been poisoned and ask for information regarding the culprit.

Really, the only question in her mind was why people seemed to think someone had fallen from mid-air.

That and if the Gryffindors were okay.

She changed into her pajamas, too occupied with her thoughts to say anything to her roommate, Jennifer Gottwit. She knew the Gryffindors were annoying - god, she knew - but would someone in her House actually try to harm them like this?

Well. Yes, they would. But were they aiming to simply injure them or to kill?

She sighed as she got into bed, placing her wand under her pillow as always. Something about it being there just made her feel safer.

Natasha figured she'd know for sure if she were right tomorrow morning. Until then, no reason to not get some sleep...

~.~.~

She followed some other first-year Slytherins into the Great Hall, listening to them snicker and laugh about the Gryffindors' misfortune.

"I bet it was their own fault, some stupid Lion probably tried to do a basic spell and ended up knocking them out instead," Jennifer sneered.

"Shoddy spellwork must be contagious, I heard their Head of House can't even do a basic _Wingardium Leviosa_ without turning red from concentrating so hard," Loki laughed.

"Yeah, Longbottom is a real piece of work. Last week he almost blew up half the greenhouse. I honestly don't know _why_ he's still a professor here," a boy named Henry jeered.

Natasha followed them to the Slytherin table, sitting down and staring at the ceiling, trying to block out their useless jabbering. She saw the ghosts start to float through the walls, apparently interested in what the headmaster had to say.

The students meandered in, everyone talking amongst themselves. Except for the Gryffindors, Natasha noticed. They seemed quiet, somber.

Snixley came in, and the whispers and mutterings slowly died away as he climbed to the platform that the teachers' table was on. Most of the other teachers had already seated themselves, and were watching Snixley intently.

Natasha noticed that a few seemed angry, especially Longbottom and Hagrid. Fury and Hill didn't seem very pleased, either. The others seemed content, though. She concluded that what Snixley was about to announce had been met with opposition from some of the professors.

Snixley cleared his throat, and all leftover mutterings ceased immediately. He gazed slowly across the Hall before finally speaking.

"I know most of you have heard about what happened yesterday - how four of our brave Gryffindors were injured during last night's feast. I want to inform everyone that they have been moved to Saint Mungo's earlier this morning, and that they are expected to recover in time."

The Hall erupted with students muttering to each other, most of them saying things like "See? I _told_ you they weren't dead!"

A few of the louder students yelled their questions at the headmaster:

"Okay, but what _happened_?"

"Did a kid really apparate inside the school?"

"Why couldn't we visit them in the infirmary?"

Snixley waited calmly until the chatter died down, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. His voice was soft and reasonable when he began talking, seemingly not bothered by the students' outburst. "There appears to have been some spell that went wrong, injuring the Gryffindors. Rest assured that steps are being taken to fully investigate this occurrence and prevent it from happening again." Spell gone wrong? That seemed a bit vague to Natasha. And it didn't explain why the teachers made the food disappear so quickly.

"As to the claims of an apparation, I assure you that the school's protections are still in place, and it is still impossible to apparate within school grounds. The injured students were not allowed visitors because they were in no state to receive any." Natasha saw Hagrid's face grow angrier, and he sat forward in his seat as if he was about to say something. Longbottom stopped him by quickly putting a hand on his elbow, shaking his head subtly.

Natasha felt her suspicions rise. Why would Hagrid become so angry at the mention of the infirmary? The only thing she really knew about him was that he was extremely honest - the Slytherin upperclassmen always made fun of him for spilling secrets or answers on tests. So maybe the headmaster was lying?

She nodded to herself as she walked out of the Hall, intending on skipping breakfast and going to the library. She was sure that the Gryffindors had been poisoned - everything fit, especially the vanishing food. And if Snixley was trying to cover _that_ up, couldn't he be lying about something else?

She couldn't definitively prove or disprove the poisonings, but she _could_ see why Hagrid had gotten so angry. And why Snixley seemed to be so eager to lie to his students.

If something sour was going on in the school, she wanted to know about it. If only to avoid becoming too involved if things grew complicated and collapsed, as discovered lies tended to do.

She made a quick left, deciding that the library could wait. It suddenly seemed much more pressing to investigate the infirmary.


	17. Chapter XVII - Steve

**Longer chapter, yay! Enjoy, and please review to tell me your thoughts :)**

He was woken up abruptly by commotion outside of his curtained-off world. Steve quickly stood up, moving to see what was going on. He peeked through the curtains, watching as several people in white medical robes grabbed the other occupied beds and wheeled them in a circular formation around a can of tomato soup.

The beds didn't have curtains around them anymore, and Steve saw for the first time what the injured students looked like. Their eyes were closed, but their skin looked extremely pale and sweaty. And their hands looked...grey.

Maybe they were slowly turning to stone or something. You never knew at Hogwarts.

The medics all nodded to each other and, as one, touched the can. There was a slight _pop_ as they all vanished instantly. A portkey.

Steve stepped out from behind the curtains, seeing that his was the only occupied bed left. He was about to step out further and explore when the nurse came from somewhere out of sight, pulling open his curtains. "Oh, no no no!" she exclaimed. "Back to bed with you, young man!"

Steve tried to protest, but he was quickly ushered back under the covers. The nurse - he thought her name was Madame Willis, but he couldn't really remember - waved her wand and the blinds on the windows flew open, letting in the morning sunlight.

"Now then, I bet you're hungry," she said with a smile. She waved her wand again and a tray appeared on Steve's lap, containing a bowl of oatmeal and several pieces of toast, as well as a large glass of orange juice. "Fresh from the kitchens!"

"Um, thanks," Steve muttered while taking a large bite of the oatmeal. It was warm and sweet, and made him realize just how hungry he was. He supposed going seventy years into the future would do that to a body. "Where did the other students go?" he asked around a swig of juice.

"That's none of your concern, dear, don't worry your head over it," she smiled. "Now, I don't want you to leave the bed. You've been through a lot and you need your rest. The headmaster will be by in a bit to talk to you, and if you're feeling up to it I see no reason to keep you past lunchtime."

Steve frowned, not really wanting to see the headmaster again, but he couldn't see any way out of it. He didn't want to face a bunch of questions that he didn't know the answers to. He didn't want them to think that he was responsible for the other students' injuries. He didn't -

He cut himself off, trying to focus on the food in front of him instead of the future. Or the present, as it was. The nurse smiled at him and left the room, and Steve heard the lock click behind her.

He was left alone for what felt like hours. After he finished the food, he tried to content himself with staring at the ceiling and thinking, but found that his thoughts had a tendency to quickly spin out of control. He tried sleeping, but again his thoughts distracted him.

So he eventually decided to defy the nurse's orders and explore a bit. He walked from one end of the room to another, seeing no sign of what had been ailing the other students. He tried the door several times, but it was locked - and he without his wand.

The nurse's office was at one end of the room, and he tried the door to that. Success! Unlocked! He stepped inside, figuring that his wand was probably somewhere inside, and would provide a sense of normalcy to all of this. Or at least he'd have _something_ familiar.

Just as he was starting to open up the desk drawers, though, he hear the door to the hallway unlatch. Steve quickly crouched down, peeking out of the window overlooking the infirmary.

A small girl with bright red hair stepped inside, quickly looking around. She stepped inside, locking the door behind her with a whispered "_Colloportus._" Steve leaned closer to the window to see what she was doing.

Unfortunately, this caused the desk drawer to close with a loud _bang_. The girl whipped around, meeting his eyes through the window. She quickly raised her wand as her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" she asked.

Steve raised his hands to show that he didn't have his wand. "My name's Steve. Steve Rogers. And who are you?"

Her wand didn't stop pointing at him as she stepped toward him, moving through the doorway to stand against the wall. "Natasha Romanoff. What are you doing here?" she asked, looking him up and down.

It was only then that Steve became fully aware of what he was wearing. Sometime last night they had apparently taken his clothes, leaving him in an _extremely_ thin hospital gown. At least he still had his underwear on. He could feel his face growing hotter by the second as he stuttered out an answer. "I-I...came here last night. They're keeping me in here until they figure out what to do with me, I guess."

The girl - Natasha - stared at him for a few more seconds, frowning. Then she nodded, lowering her wand. "What were you looking for?"

Steve shrugged. "My wand. They, uh, took that along with my clothes, I think. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Looking for you, I suppose," she said, leaning against the office door, watching him resume his search. He must have given her a confused look because she sighed deeply. "Do you know anything about what happened last night?"

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but there came the sound of talking from the hallway, right outside the door. Steve's eyes widened, and he saw Natasha's do the same. "Hide!" he hissed. "No one's supposed to be in here!"

They ran out of the office, Steve closing the door quietly behind him. He saw Natasha dive underneath a bed, and Steve jumped into his just as the door to the hallway opened.

"I swear, Cindy always goes overboard with these locking charms. I keep telling her a simple key would do..." Steve saw the stout headmaster walk in with the scary purple lady behind him. She glared at him, and Steve felt himself gulp. "Steve! Just the man we wanted to see!" the headmaster cried, walking over to him.

The purple lady - was her name Umbrella? Something like that - conjured two chairs for herself and the headmaster. "We just want to ask you a few questions, Steve, nothing to worry about," he smiled as he sat.

Steve nodded, taking a deep breath. He hadn't done anything, so he had nothing to worry about, right? They might even have some answers for him, might have a way for him to get back to his own time.

"Now, Mister Rogers, I must ask that you answer all of these questions honestly. We will be able to tell if you are lying or withholding the truth. Do you understand?" Steve nodded.

"No veritaserum, then?" he asked gratefully.

"I have been informed that veritaserum is not capable of providing definitive proof of guilt or innocence. Rest assured, however, that we do have other methods," the purple lady said.

"It's also because the use of veritaserum on students is forbidden," came a voice from the doorway. Steve looked up to see the sweater vest man walking in. He had splotches of dirt smeared across his face and hands, but Steve was still glad to see him.

"Late as always, Longbottom. I really don't know why you even bothered to show up," purple lady sneered.

"I apologize, I was caught up harvesting some Abyssinian shrivelfig for Professor Hill, as you well know Umbridge." The man smiled down at Steve while grabbing one of the spare chairs in the corner of the room. "How are you feeling, Steve?"

"I'm, uh. I'm okay, I guess." It seemed like there was something more going on here, and Steve had somehow wound up in the middle of it. His eyes darted between Umbridge and Longbottom, wondering why they seemed to be having a power struggle over him.

"If we may get started, then?" the headmaster clapped his hands together. "Steve, if you could tell us all-" just then there was a tapping at the window, and Umbridge sighed irritably.

The headmaster stood up and opened the window, and a small brown owl fluttered inside, pushing a letter toward the headmaster. He took and read it quickly, gave the owl a small treat from his pocket, and turned to the others. "I'm sorry, but I really must respond to this immediately. I trust that you two can handle this?"

Steve didn't even think he paused to see Umbridge's and Longbottom's responses before hurrying out of the room. The two teachers glared at each other and Umbridge spoke in a crisp, stern manner. "Really, Longbottom. It's not necessary for you to be here. I assure you that I can handle this myself."

Longbottom sighed. "I'm sure you can, but Steve is in my House and is my responsibility. I will not leave, Doris." Steve felt himself smile slightly, glad that Longbottom wasn't leaving him alone with Umbridge. "Now, Steve. Could you tell us everything that you remember?"

"I...It's not much." Longbottom nodded at him encouragingly and Steve took a deep breath and continued. "I was at the feast with Peggy in, uh, 1942. And then I was falling through the air, landing on top of some Ravenclaw. In 2012. Everything in between is a blank, I'm sorry."

Umbridge leaned forward, examining him closely. "Are you positive you do not remember anything else? I'll be frank, it still strikes me as too large of a coincidence that you appeared at the same moment that our Gryffindors were injured."

Steve met her eyes and nodded. "I'm sure. If I knew anything I'd tell you." Steve paused, thinking of Hagrid's visit the night before. "Shouldn't there be some record of my, uh, disappearance? Back then? And is there any way for me to get back?" he asked hopefully.

"We are looking for written records from that time, but many were unfortunately destroyed in the Battle for Hogwarts. As to your return to your own time, I'm afraid that is an impossibility. Horrendous things happen to wizards who fiddle with time. Frankly, I'm surprised you ended up here in one piece," Umbridge said, standing up. "He is yours, Longbottom. For now I am satisfied that he is of no threat to our school." She strode out of the room, leaving him alone with Longbottom.

He smiled at Steve. "Madame Willis told me in the hallway that you could be released by lunchtime, so we can get you set up in a room in Gryffindor tower then. And you might find a few familiar things waiting for you, too."

Steve perked up slightly. "Like what?"

Longbottom shook his head. "Wait and see. If I told you now, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" He paused for a second, thinking. "I believe Hagrid went to Hogwarts in 1942, didn't he?" Steve nodded slowly. "Would you like for me to ask him if he remembers what happened that night?"

Steve nodded again, saying "I can go find him after the nurse lets me leave."

Longbottom looked down at him, smiling slightly. "Ah, and how did you know he worked here?" Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Longbottom beat him to it. "He visited you last night, didn't he?" Steve nodded again, looking down, afraid that he'd gotten Hagrid in trouble. "Ah, well. I expected he would, honestly. It's okay, though, so long as Snixley or Umbridge don't find out."

Longbottom patted Steve on the head before standing up. "Well, I'll let you rest for a bit more." He got quiet for a few seconds before continuing. "We're sorry this happened to you, Steve, but we'll take care of you, don't worry." He stood there for a few more seconds in silence before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him, but not locking it.

Steve stared down at his hands, lost in thought. So he was really stuck here. He'd expected as much, but still...Well, at least no one thought he'd had anything to do with the Gryffindor's injuries anymore. Still, he wondered what had happened that night, seventy years ago. He'd have to be sure to find Hagrid tonight. He _needed_ to know what had happened to him.

There was a rustling noise from under one of the empty beds, and Natasha slithered out, surprising Steve. He'd completely forgotten that she was there.

She sat on the floor, looking at him carefully. "So you, what, transported here from the past?" she asked.

Steve shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."

She nodded several times, thinking. "That makes some sense. You were the one that some kids saw drop from the air. I guess Snixley didn't want to tell the school about you until he was sure you weren't dangerous or something," she snorted slightly. "Although how anyone could think a little lion like you would be dangerous is beyond me."

"Hey, I can be dangerous!" Steve growled, trying to deepen his voice. The fact that he was sitting in a hospital bed, garbed only in a hospital gown and wandless might have undermined the effect slightly, however, because Natasha only laughed at him. "So you're a Slytherin, then?"

Natasha nodded. "What gave it away? Was it my green tie or my wonderful friendly attitude?" Steve rolled his eyes at her as she stood up. "I guess I'll see you around then, little lion."

She made to move toward the door, but Steve spoke up. "Hey, why did you come in here, anyway?"

She paused, turning back toward him. "I thought Snixley was lying to the school, which he was, and I thought the reason could be found in here. Which it was, in a way."

Steve frowned. "He lied? About what?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, little lion. It doesn't concern you." She continued toward the door, pausing again before opening it. "Thank you for not telling them I was under the bed." Steve nodded, but the door was already closing behind her.

Strange girl, but not as horrible as he would have expected for a Slytherin. Steve sighed to himself, deciding to resume his search for his wand. He was sure he'd get it back when they released him, but still. Maybe while he was at it he'd find some real clothes, too...

One could hope, anyway.


	18. Chapter XVIII - Loki

**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.**

Loki sat in the library staring at a blank piece of paper. He had come up here with the intention of brainstorming ways to get back at that infuriating Stark, but he continued to be distracted. Ever since the Sorting Hat had made that side comment about him not being an Odinson, well...he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He didn't want to talk to his father about it - and he _definitely_ didn't want to mention it to Thor - but he was starting to see no other alternative. A few weeks ago, he had dug up a large, dusty book with the lineages of every pureblood family in the world. He had intended to see if his name was in it under Odinson - simple. But, unfortunately, the book wasn't that recent. It only went to his grandfather.

The thought that Loki might be adopted, might not be a pureblood or the true son of the most powerful wizard in Britain...well. It made him want to hunt someone down and skin them alive, honestly.

Hmmm...there was an idea...

He scribbled "skin alive" on his paper, although he didn't think it was a viable option. Too much blood for his tastes. Maybe some nasty curse would do the trick. There were bound to be some truly horrible ones _somewhere_ amidst all of these books.

Although a curse could always be cured. Loki wanted to get Stark in a way that he wouldn't ever be able to forget.

Just as an idea was beginning to form in his head, he saw Natasha walk in. Loki waved her over, hoping that she might be willing to help him. He knew that she was no friend of Stark, either.

"Natasha," he nodded to her. "What are you up to?"

She shrugged, walking over. "Research for the potions paper that Hill gave us."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding, making a mental note to finish the report tonight. "I was wondering if you would be interested in, ah...gaining _retribution_ against a certain arrogant Ravenclaw?"

She snorted, and Loki felt himself frown. "Need help getting revenge, Loki?"

"No!" he protested, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I simply thought that since we seemed to share a common enemy, we should, ah, help each other out a bit."

Natasha shrugged. "I'm not interested, Loki."

"Wait, what?" Loki asked, shocked. "I thought you were dead set on humiliating Stark because he didn't take the spell like a man during flying lessons."

She shrugged again, moving to leave. "Oh, I'm still getting my revenge. I'm just not interested at the moment, is all. Quite busy with other things," she said.

"What other things?" Loki asked. Correcting wrongs against him was one of Loki's top priorities. How could he be considered strong if he didn't exact revenge upon his enemies? Few things were more important to him, so why wasn't it the same with Natasha?

"Stuff, Loki. Things," she replied crisply before waving goodbye and walking away.

Loki was left alone at the table, slightly stunned. He'd been sure Natasha would want to work together with him. Her input and ideas would have been a great addition to any plans he could have come up with on his own. What could be so important that she was sidelining revenge on Stark?

He supposed he'd have to find out.

Maybe finding out and helping her with "things" would convince her to work with him against Stark. And since asking outright hadn't worked...he'd have to find another method.

Spying, perhaps?

Spying could work.

In the meantime, he supposed he'd just have to recruit Jennifer and Henry to help against Stark. They lacked the same...finesse as Natasha, but they'd do.

Loki bent back toward his paper. Now, to flesh out his idea...

~.~.~

Later that day, Loki walked in to Potions class in a pretty good mood. His plans for Stark were coming around nicely, and he had successfully recruited Jennifer and Henry. Jennifer had even agreed to periodically ask Natasha what she was up to.

Oh, the joys of having minions.

His high spirits were quickly dampened, however, when he heard a loud voice cry out "Brother!" Loki sighed, trying to ignore Thor's attempts to grab his attention. As always, it didn't work. "Brother! I wish to ask you about the report due next class!"

"Thor, for the _last time_, I don't associate with stupid lions. That includes you."

True to form, Thor's face melted into that kicked-puppy look that always make Loki's heart sink. Loki didn't like being so harsh with his brother, really he didn't. But Thor could be so _dense_ sometimes.

Loki continued to his usual seat beside Henry, as far from Thor and the other Gryffindors as he could get. He steadfastly pretended he didn't see his brother trudging back to the empty table that he always saved for Loki.

Professor Hill walked in and class began, and Loki busied himself with trying to make his forgetfulness potion turn the correct shade of grey.

He had to let his brother go. Loki had to become his own person, to stop chasing after his brother's shadow. He had to surpass Thor. Only that would be able to prove to himself that he was a true Odinson.

He sighed, glancing down at the bubbling mixture which was quickly turning purple. Maybe if he added a pinch more fluxweed...


	19. Chapter XIX - Thor

**Obligatory plea for reviews and my gracious thanks for reading.**

Thor slid into the Gryffindor common room after muttering the password, not wanting to deal with anyone after what had happened in Potions. No matter how hard he tried, Loki kept shoving him away. Why couldn't his brother see that they could still get along even when they were in different Houses?

Thor sighed, sitting down at an empty table, intent on finishing Professor Hill's essay tonight so he could practice the lumos charm that he just _couldn't_ seem to get. Maybe he could ask Phil to help him during breakfast...

The common room was unusually quiet, and Thor found it hard to concentrate. He supposed the silence was understandable - four of their House had been injured just last night. They were sad and worried. As was he. But did they all have to be sad and worried so _quietly?_

Couldn't there be some raging drunks using up their secret stashes of butterbeer all at once? Was that really too much to ask?

Just when he thought he was going to go insane from the sombre atmosphere, he heard a few excited murmurs amongst the other Gryffindors. He turned and saw Professor Longbottom enter through the portrait hole with a small blonde boy following behind him. Longbottom seemed to clear his throat as the Gryffindors crowded around the two, chattering excitedly and asking questions rapidly.

"Who're you? I've never seen you before."

"You're that kid who fell from the air, aren't you?"

"Is there any news on how Nathan and the others are doing at Saint Mungo's?"

Longbottom held up his hands for silence, and the chaos died down to a dull roar. Thor slid stood up and started sliding closer, wanting to hear what was going on.

"There hasn't been an update on the others' progress yet, but I promise to tell you the second that there is. What I'm here for is to tell you that you've got a new Housemate." Everyone immediately started talking again, and Thor felt a deep sense of confusion.

A new House member in the middle of the year? How was that even possible? Had this kid transferred from another school or something? But there hadn't been a sorting ceremony. Or maybe there had been and he'd just slept through it. Oh no, he'd slept through it hadn't -

"I know it's a bit...unorthodox, but please help make Steve's transition as smooth as possible." Longbottom put his hand on the small boy's shoulder, guiding him forward. "Is Thor here? Thor Odinson?"

Thor perked up slightly, raising his hand. "I am here, Sir!" he shouted, stepping forward through the crowd.

Longbottom smiled when Thor came within sight of him. "Thor, this is Steve Rogers, your new roommate. Steve, this is Thor Odinson." Thor grinned and took the tiny boy's hand, pumping it up and down eagerly. He spoke up louder so the entire common room could hear him. "I must ask that you don't pester Steve with questions. I know that this is a difficult time for Gryffindor, but please remember to be courteous to Steve. I'm sure you'll make him welcome." Longbottom patted Steve on the shoulder again before backing out of the portrait hole, leaving the kid alone. Staring down the entire House of Gryffindor.

"Um. Hi there," Steve said, waving to the crowd.

Everyone stared back at him for a few tense seconds before rushing forward, shouting questions and exclamations. Thor stepped in front of Steve, knowing that the smaller boy would be squished in the crowd. And he didn't want a squished roommate.

"Why are you starting so late?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Did you have anything to do with what happened last night?"

Thor was going to try to move through the crowd, but there were too many people. He looked back at Steve to see a blank look on the kid's face, like he was completely overwhelmed. Thor felt a thick urge to protect his new roommate well up inside his chest.

Thor started gently pushing a few upperclassmen out of the way, announcing "My roommate. Not yours. Goodbye." He started making his way toward the staircase, away from the anxious Gryffindors. The crowd became thicker, however, and soon Thor and Steve were stuck in the middle, unable to move.

He grabbed Steve's arm, preparing to throw him over the crowd if he had to. Better a few bruises than being mauled by anxious lions.

"Guys! Guys, step _back_! Give the kid some room already!" a voice cried out, and Thor was joined by a boy with bright blue hair who he vaguely recognized as a second year.

"You're going to give him a heart attack, stop already!" two girls joined them in front of the crowd. Thor recognized them from his classes - Victoire and Pepper.

"Yeah, can't you see you're scaring him?" Victoire shouted, standing with her arms crossed, wand out and ready, in front of Steve.

The crowd backed off a bit, seeming to come to their senses. Most of them muttered apologies before hurriedly retreating to the tables or their rooms.

"Sorry about that," the blue-haired kid said to Steve and Thor. "I think everyone's just really worried about the others, you know?"

Thor nodded, he too was worried about the injured Gryffindors. Their injuries must have been grievous indeed if they were taken to Saint Mungo's. "I do not understand why they were so...pushy, though."

It was Victoire who answered, shrugging lightly. "People do some crazy things when they're scared and concerned about their friends."

Thor nodded again. His thoughts wandered briefly to Loki...yes, he could completely understand concern for loved ones.

Steve was looking around now, wandering toward the stairs. Thor moved to follow him, to show him where their room was, and was surprised when the others followed him. "It looks exactly the same..." Steve was muttering.

"The same as what?" Victoire asked, climbing the stairs.

"Have you been here before?" Pepper asked, following Victoire.

Steve started to shake his head as they reached the top of the stairs, but then paused, nodding. "I mean, kind of. It's...hard to explain."

Thor led Steve to his - their - room, the others following. It wasn't until they were all crammed in that Thor realized he probably should have cleaned a bit. Maybe throwing his socks everywhere _wasn't_ the best storage method...

"So what's so hard to explain? Either you've been here before or you haven't. Are you some sort of transfer student? Your accent sounds American." The blue haired kid rambled. "Oh, yeah. I'm Teddy, by the way. Teddy Lupin." He stuck his hand out to Steve, who shook it silently. Thor shook Teddy's hand as well, pumping it up and down eagerly.

"Oh! I'm Pepper Potts, and this is Victoire Weasley." They both shook Steve's hand as well, and everyone stood around awkwardly for a few seconds, watching Steve.

Thor watched as Steve's eyes darted between the four of them, looking overwhelmed. "I-I, um..." Thor was about to suggest that the other leave when Steve opened his mouth. "I'm from America, but...I'm from another time." he blurted out, blushing slightly.

Stunned silence filled the room, and Steve's face soon resembled a tomato. "Are you serious?" Teddy eventually croaked.

Steve nodded. "I-I'm from 1942. A-And the common room still looks the same, and the castle is the same, but the people are all different and..." he trailed off, sighing. "I know you probably don't believe me. _I_ barely believe me."

Thor had to agree, it didn't sound very likely. But that look on Steve's face...he looked lost and alone. He felt the thick urge to protect the smaller boy well up inside of him again. No one could fake that look; there was no way he was lying.

"So you're just...stuck here, then?" Pepper asked. Steve nodded, looking down at the ground.

Thor slapped his shoulder, trying to cheer him up. "It is okay, we will have fun, roommate!" he grinned down at Steve. "Did you have popping tarts in your time? Popping tarts are the best."

Thor knew he was rambling, but Steve looked so _sad._ And Thor didn't know how to deal with this. A roommate - yes, good. A roommate trapped in the wrong time? Maybe not so good.

Steve smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Never heard of them."

"Well, dinner's in a few hours. Hey, maybe I can pop in the kitchens and see if they have any for you," Teddy said. He perked up suddenly, and he stuck his head out the door for a few seconds before turning back to them. "Yeah, I gotta go talk to Fred about something, but I'll see if we can snag you guys some pop tarts. See you later!" He waved before rushing out, probably back down to the common room.

"Yeah, we should probably go, too. That Potions paper is due next class, and I've barely even started on it," Pepper said, moving to leave.

"It was nice meeting you, Steve," Victoire said. "See you two around!"

"Thank you for your assistance!" Thor called after them. He started hurriedly throwing his socks in a corner, hoping that Steve somehow hadn't noticed the messy state of the room.

He looked up to see Steve sitting on his bed, holding something. Thor stepped closer, seeing an antique-looking teddy bear. Steve looked up at him and smiled. "It's Bucky Bear!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I wonder how Longbottom found him..."

"This is your bear?" Thor asked. "From...1942?"

Steve nodded. "He's...I guess he's really all I have left of home, now." And there was that sad look again, that _lost_ look. Thor frowned, trying to think of a way to distract Steve.

"Are you good at Charms? I cannot understand lumos and it frustrates me."

Steve looked up, nodding hesitantly. "I mean, it's been a while. I might be a bit rusty after seventy years, but I think I can still do it," he smiled lightly. He brought a wand out of his pocket and muttered "_Lumos."_ The tip of his wand burst into light, brightening the room.

"See, I just..." Thor grabbed his own want, shouting "LUMOS!" while pointing it at the wall. A large gust of wind shot out of his wand, hitting the wall with a _whoosh_. Where the wind hit, the wall seemed to turn a light lavender color. Thor's eyes widened. "Oops."

"Um. Maybe you want to be a bit _softer,"_ Steve suggested. "Here, like this..."

Thor smiled to himself, watching as Steve tried to explain the slight wrist movement for lumos. This was going to be _fun_. Well, not the Charms, that would be evil. But having a roommate? Finally, someone to talk to about the wonders of the popping tarts at three am! Yes!


	20. Chapter XX - Pepper

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, please enjoy, yada yada yada...ONWARD!**

Pepper walked out of the bathroom, planning to meet Victoire and Miranda in an unused classroom to practice changing matches into needles. They had an examination next class, and Miranda had agreed to help them. Pepper just _couldn't_ seem to do it correctly, and it infuriated her to no end. She'd managed to turn it into a piece of hay during class. You'd think that would count for something, but _oh, no_, it just _had_ to be a needle to satisfy Professor Hill.

Pepper sighed, deciding to take a shortcut. The more time she had to practice, the better.

She saw someone else in the hallway but didn't think anything of it until he/she ducked behind a statue. Suspicious.

Her curiosity piqued, Pepper made her way over. She saw a skinny Ravenclaw boy with messy brown hair whispering furiously to a gargoyle.

"Blair, Churchill, Lincoln, Gandhi, Washington - oh, I dunno, _Hitler?"_ he growled.

"You okay over there?" she asked. The boy jumped, spinning around quickly.

"Yeah I'm fine we're A-okay yup definitely good nothing wrong here just whispering my heart's desires to this magical gargoyle here - he makes your dreams come true, I heard. Yup." The kid's eyes kept shifting back and forth, and Pepper had to slam her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Your heart's desire is Hitler?" she asked, torn between giggling and slapping him.

"I-uh. Maybe. So what?" he asked defensively.

"So I'm wondering what you're up to and why you're so jumpy." She put her hands on her hips, deciding that she wasn't going to let him leave until he spilled his intentions.

"Nothing I'm not up to anything nope - oh, look at the time! I've got Astronomy in a few hours, what d'you know? Gotta run nice talking to you!" He tried sidestepping her, but she pushed him back firmly.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "This is the way in to the headmaster's office, isn't it? Victoire mentioned it was through a gargoyle...you're trying to guess the password, aren't you?"

"Oh Victoire I know her. She's really cute, you know. A lot cuter than you," he glared at her, and Pepper felt her cheeks grow red. She pushed him again, maybe a bit rougher than she had intended, because he slammed against the wall.

The boy's eyes widened slightly before shrinking into slits. "Okay, fine. You caught me. Snixley took my firecrackers and I want them back, you happy?"

Pepper crossed her arms and glared back at him. She didn't know why, but she didn't believe him. He was up to something, and she wanted to know what. "No. I don't believe you."

"Well that's too bad, because it's the truth."

"Even if that's true - and I doubt it - then you broke the rules and you need to deal with the consequences."

He laughed bitterly. "Oh, but I _am_ dealing with the consequences. By taking back what's rightfully mine. Or at least I was until you came along, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Pepper advanced on the boy, poking him roughly in the chest. "It _is_ my business because I'm a student, just the same as you. The rules are in place for a reason and breaking them could be dangerous! Just because you're a stuck up Ravenclaw doesn't mean you always know what's best!"

The kid backed against the wall, hands held up. "Okay, okay, I give. Geez, you're so pushy. I won't break in to get my firecrackers, okay?" Pepper nodded, although she still didn't think he was being completely honest for some reason. "What's your name anyway?"

"I'm Pepper," she said, stepping back but recrossing her arms.

"Tony. Tony Stark," He sidestepped her, and she let him. "Now if it pleases you, I'll take my leave now." He glared at her right before turning on his heel and striding down the hallway. She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

She continued to the classroom, a few minutes late now. When she found Victoire and Miranda, she related the story to them. "I just don't know why, but I _really_ don't think he was looking for firecrackers. His face was too...serious."

"This was Tony?" Miranda asked, setting out the matchsticks on one of the tables.

"Yeah, he was in your House. Do you know him?" Pepper waved her wand above the matchstick, but all it did was smoke a bit.

"Yeah, he's kind of a friend of mine. Although I didn't know he had firecrackers, let alone that they'd been confiscated..." Pepper sighed as Miranda's matchstick turned into perfect, shiny needle.

"How are you _doing_ that?" Victoire asked.

"Here, you wave your wand like _this,"_ she said, demonstrating. Pepper followed her movements carefully, and her matchstick managed to turn a light silver color. Progress, at least.

"So I was right, he _wasn't_ looking for his stuff..." she muttered to herself.

"Well, he could have had the firecrackers and just not have told Miranda," Victoire mused. She was poking her match with her wand, muttering curses under her breath.

Pepper was shaking her head. "I don't think so. He was just so...serious when I found him. I don't know how to explain it, I guess you had to have been there." She shrugged, waving her wand again.

When she looked down, she was met with a shiny new needle. "Hey, I did it!" she shouted.

"Me too!" Victoire grinned.

"That's great, guys! Now try it a few more times so you're sure you've got it down," Miranda grinned. "You'll pass this test yet."

Pepper continued turning matches into needles, usually getting it on her second or third try. She couldn't stop thinking about that Stark kid though. He was up to something, she _knew_ it. And she was going to find out what it was no matter what. She'd even follow him, if that was what it took.

She frowned as she accidentally turned her needle into a pencil. She really should learn to focus more...


	21. Chapter XXI - Steve

**Sorry for the wait! Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone :)**

Steve smiled to himself as the large blonde followed him to the common room. "Are you sure you do not wish for me to accompany you?" he boomed. He seemed to boom a lot, this kid.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Thor. I'll be fine."

"But you may get lost," Thor fretted, sounding like an overprotective mother.

"Thor, I can see his house from here," Steve pointed to a window where Hagrid's house was indeed visible in the distance. "I'll be _fine._ And I promise to be back in time for dinner, _Mom_."

Thor just gave him a puzzled look, nodding slowly. "Okay. We shall feast on popping tarts, yes?" Steve sighed, nodding as he exited through the portrait hole. They'd had what felt like billions of pop tarts last night for dinner. And for breakfast this morning. And if Thor had had his way they would have had them for lunch too.

They were good and everything but not _that_ good.

"Well, it's been quite some time since I've seen _you,"_ Steve heard from behind him. He turned around, looking up at the portrait lady. "I'd been told you had died all those years ago."

"Oh, it takes more than that to kill me," Steve grinned up at her. At least there were a few familiar faces here, even if they were only pictures and ghosts. And Hagrid.

"Well I should hope so. Not much of a Gryffindor if you're dead your first year. Well, that's _my_ opinion anyway," she huffed, glaring at another portrait across the hall. Steve rolled his eyes and waved goodbye to the portrait lady, continuing on his way.

Despite his words to Thor, he did manage to get lost. Hogwarts was mostly the same, but there seemed to be a few new hallways and corridors that weren't there in his time.

In his time. Geez, he sounded like an old geezer.

Well there was a thought. Was he eighty-one now? Or was he still eleven? He hadn't aged, sure, but it _was_ seventy years later. And he _was_ technically born eighty-one years ago...

He eventually made it out near the Quidditch pitch, deciding to forget the hallways and stick to the outdoors. He was going to take a look inside the pitch, to see if any of the Houses were practicing, but decided against it. He was late enough as it was.

Steve started walking around Hogwarts, noticing how much had changed. The building seemed new in some places, like it had been rebuilt recently while other places looked a lot older than he remembered, covered in ivy. Steve stopped for a second, looking into the distance. Was that tree moving? It was! Huh, that was new.

He saw what he assumed was Hagrid's house in the distance, near the forest. As he got closer, Steve marveled at how large it was. Hagrid must be pretty important to get his own house!

Steve walked up to the massive oak door, knocking loudly. He heard loud curses coming from the other side, along with what sounded like an elephant stumbling around, knocking everything inside to the floor. Then the door opened.

And there was Hagrid, even bigger than he had seemed a few nights ago in the infirmary. It seemed like Steve came up to his knees. Hagrid's hair was bushier than Steve remembered, more wild and curly. As well as a bit grey, but he chose to ignore that.

"Nice apron, Hagrid," Steve chuckled, looking at the frilly pink fabric.

Hagrid blushed slightly, muttering "Was a gift...Anyways, c'mon in." Hagrid ushered him inside, seating him at a massive wooden table in what seemed to be the dinning room. Hagrid continued around the corner to what Steve assumed was the kitchen.

Steve looked around, seeing that there was no walls separating the dinning room from the living room, where there were several very large couches and armchairs. One wall of the living room was also covered in bookshelves, and there was a large area rug across the floor.

There was a door at the other end of the living room, and Steve assumed it went to a bathroom or stairs or something. There were a few pictures hanging on the walls - moving, of course. Steve was about to get up and look at them when Hagrid came back into the room, grinning widely.

"Fresh Treacle Fudge, jus' fer yeh!" Oh no. Steve felt his stomach sink as Hagrid plopped the tray down, starting to cut it with what resembled a chainsaw. He remembered Hagrid had made this very same fudge to welcome the first year Gryffindors to Hogwarts.

And Steve remembered how it had stuck his teeth together like glue, how it had felt like he was chewing rocks, how-

Maybe it had improved over time. Yeah. Let's be hopeful about this now.

He smiled hesitantly at Hagrid, picking up the smallest piece he could find. Steve swallowed, took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and plopped the fudge in his mouth.

Nope.

Nope it hadn't improved at _all._

"So yeh like it?" Hagrid asked, looking down at him hopefully. Steve nodded, desperately trying to swallow but failing miserably. "Yeh want ter know what happened that nigh'?"

Steve nodded again, more vigorously. That was the whole reason he'd visited, asking Hagrid when he was free that morning at breakfast.

"Well...it was normal, mos'ly. Everyone was eatin' and talkin' like normal. Then there was a shout - a scream. An' an owl flew in - all beat up an' dirty, poor thing. It was carryin' a Howler. 'Purge the mudblood filth from Hogwarts. The Chamber is opened at last' were the words. An' everything got a bit crazy. Everyone was yellin' and throwin' spells. The Howler was still goin' on - yeh could hear it above everythin' still. An' yeh were goin' after the owl, I remember that, 'cause I was shoutin' ter not hurt it."

Steve's eyes widened as he caught a brief flash of the owl in his mind's eye. Was he remembering? It was a large owl, one of the largest he'd ever seen. It had glowing red eyes and wicked talons, sleek black wings and feathers that had appeared to be spattered in dried blood. Steve saw himself going after it - running to the Ravenclaw table. He'd thought if he could catch it then everyone would stop panicking. They'd all stop casting spells and no one would be hurt. He'd jumped up on the Ravenclaw table, wand hand outstretched toward the bird flying around, when-

When what?

"An' yeh got ter the owl, but it was scared an' it attacked yeh, I think. I saw yeh shout, an' people said there was blood afterwards..."

Oh. Steve tried to open his mouth to tell Hagrid that he was starting to remember - he could see everything growing clearer in his mind, but his teeth were still stuck together from the fudge.

He saw the bird dive down towards him, talons outstretched. Before Steve could dive out of the way, the bird had grabbed his hand, wand and all, and started dragging him upwards. He remembered pain shooting through his wrist as the talons dug into his skin, blood running down his arm and soaking his robes.

Then there was a flash of white - a really cold sensation like ice water was running through his veins - and he was falling through the air, landing on that orange-headed Ravenclaw kid.

"An' then a spell hit yeh, and yeh vanished. No one knew whose spell hit yeh, or what it was. Some said yeh died, vaporized, but they were wrong, obviously. The bird was still there though..." Hagrid trailed off, looking down at Steve with a soft expression on his face.

Steve could feel the fudge starting to loosen, and he thought he might be able to talk now. "Hagrid I - I remember." More memories of that night were flowing through his mind too quickly to comprehend. Him stuffing as much pumpkin pie into his mouth as possible. Giving a high-five to a kid that had dressed up like the American flag. Promising Peggy to dance with her later that night, after the feast...

He slunk down in his seat, overwhelmed again by everything he had lost. Tears started streaming from his eyes as he thought of Peggy, of his best friend in the world growing up without him. Of everyone he loved thinking that he had died. Of being stuck here, alone without them.

Of that one missed dance.

Hagrid put a hand on his shoulder, and Steve cried. Cried for what he had lost. Cried for what others had lost. Cried for what could have been.

~.~.~

He came back from Hagrid's house that night to find several sets of clothes, all in Gryffindor's colors, laid out neatly on his bed. There were a few items, however, that made Steve question just _where_ Longbottom was finding this stuff. Like the stars-and-stripes underwear. Where in the world had he found that in England?

Luckily Thor hadn't seen those particular items of clothing, though. Steve had a feeling that the larger boy would tease him endlessly about it. Although Thor seemed to take the fact that Steve still slept with a teddy bear in stride, luckily.

There had also been a few flags flapping about the room, and Steve was forced to chase after them for ten minutes before finally managing to stuff them securely in his trunk. The flags didn't seem to like that, however, as the trunk had started bucking about like a bull, trying to throw Steve off. When Thor had come in a few minutes later - bearing no less than five boxes of s'mores flavored pop tarts - he'd asked why Steve was kneeling on top of his trunk, growling at it.

"Flags," he growled stabbing his wand at a flailing piece of gold fabric trying to wiggle out. Thor dropped the pop tarts on his bed, moving to pull at the quickly-escaping flag. Before Steve could utter a warning, Thor had pulled it out with one had, watching as it waved and fluttered about without any wind.

"Ah. It is for Quidditch!" Thor declared, waving the flag about and laughing. "These are good! They will be useful when we beat Slytherin tomorrow!"

Steve perked up slightly. "There's a Quidditch match tomorrow?" The flags inside the trunk seemed to be calming down slightly, as Steve no longer had to hold on for dear life. Thor's was still flapping about in his hand, though.

"Oh, yes. We had thought that it would be canceled due to recent events, but thankfully it was not." Thor grinned as he walked out into the hallway, releasing the flag. "FREE FLAG!" he yelled as it fluttered its way to the common room. There were a few responding cheers, but not as many as Steve would have expected.

"Everything seems a bit...subdued for the day before a match," Steve mused. He wondered if Quidditch just wasn't as important as it had been before. He remembered there had been weeks of hype leading up to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game. A game that he had never seen.

Thor shrugged. "Our House is missing members, so people are sad. But we will still crush Slytherin, do not fear."

Steve grinned up at him, watching as he started devouring pop tarts, holding out some for Steve. He shook his head, starting to slide off his trunk. The flags seemed to have quieted down some, so he figured it was safe to move now. "I think I'm going to go see what's for dinner in the Great Hall."

Thor nodded, throwing down his pop tarts. "I shall accompany you!"

Steve rolled his eyes to himself as they made their way to dinner, but his heart warmed slightly. Maybe he had made a friend without really trying to. Maybe being stuck in the wrong time would be bearable after all.

~.~.~

The next day they made their way out to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor House. They were a sea of scarlet and gold, and any sadness that had been about last night was gone now. The lions were screaming and cheering as they crowded into the stands, waving the flags that had somehow escaped in the middle of the night.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff made their ways out to the stands as well, but not in the massive numbers that Gryffindor had. Steve supposed it was because their Houses weren't playing.

And then Slytherin filed in. Boos and hisses erupted around Steve and Thor as their Housemates yelled at the Slytherins. Steve was surprised to notice that Thor was completely silent. He had assumed that Thor would be leading the boos against the opposing team, not sitting there looking sad and alone.

Things settled down for a few minutes as they waited for the teams to come out. Thor started talking about the different types of brooms and strategies and players in the professional leagues, how his favorite team had made it to the World Cup last year, how he'd had perfect seats because of his father or something.

Steve hadn't caught that last bit because his world had exploded into roars and hisses. The teams had started walking onto the field, one line of scarlet and the other of green.

A large man wearing black and white stripes strode out onto the field - the referee. He came to the center ring and stood as the players shook hands, moving to mount their brooms. The man tensed, and Steve could feel everyone holding their breath.

And then the Quaffle was being thrown, and the other balls were in the air - and the players after them. "Jones has the Quaffle! Gryffindor in posses-wait! Jones is his by a Bludger, Slytherin has control of the Quaffle! To Haddy, to Pierce, to Wilson - GOAL FOR SLYTHERIN!"

The stands around Steve erupted in boos as the Slytherins cheered. Steve and Thor booed right along with the rest of the House, standing up and yelling their support for Gryffindor.

"Jones has the Quaffle again! Ducks below Haddy, dodges a Bludger, and - oh, so close! Whitmoyer saves it at the last second! Possession to Slytherin again - oh, that looked like it hurt! Bryan hits Wilson with a well-aimed Bludger giving possession to Gryffindor. Nelson banks right, dodges around Pierce and - GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR! The score is tied 10-10 my witches and wizards!"

Steve cheered with his House, laughing as Thor jumped up screaming, fists pumping in victory. He soon found himself joining in the chants and jeers, fully giving himself over to the game. As Bludgers were thrown about, Snitches were chased after and missed, the Quaffle changed possession for the hundredth time, Steve found his heart rising. It seemed that even if you went seventy years in the future, one thing was sure to remain constant in the Wizarding World.

"I think Baxton has spotted the snitch! She's climbing high and fast, dodging Bludgers left and right! Bethe is right on her tail though, catching up fast! They dive to the left, hands outstretched, neck and neck and - BAXTON HAS THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS, 240 to 110!"

Steve was swept out onto the field in a sea of scarlet and gold, whooping with joy. They had won! They swept around the players, carrying them off to the common room where contraband butterbeer and fireworks awaited.

Thor and Steve ended up at a table near the window, laughing and drinking butterbeer with Pepper and Victoire. Teddy and his friend - some skinny red-headed kid - were flying around on brooms leading a victory chant. Longbottom even popped in to celebrate as well, chugging down a mug of butterbeer.

It wasn't until around midnight that the festivities started to calm down, a few students making their way to their rooms. Steve followed them up, dragging Thor behind him. They both fell into their beds fully clothed, too happy about their win to bother changing.

Steve smiled to himself as he drifted off. Maybe the future wouldn't be so bad after all.


	22. Chapter XXII - Clint

**Obligatory plea for reviews of your thoughts and thanks for reading :)**

Clint wandered away from the Quidditch match, staring up at the early November sky and smiling to himself. Man, Thor and Phil hadn't been lying. This game was _awesome._

Flying around, dodging speeding balls that could bust your head open, hurling insults at the other team...it sounded great. And the whole finding-the-little-speedy-golden-ball thing? It didn't seem nearly as hard as everyone was making it out to be. Clint had seen it at _least_ six times when no one else had noticed it.

Phil pulled him to the side of the hallway to let the mass of screaming Gryffindors stream past, probably off to celebrate their victory if their joyous screaming was anything to judge by. They were about to continue on their way to their common room for the daily ritual of Phil endlessly pestering Clint to finish his homework - and Clint endlessly telling Phil to "shove it" - when Clint felt someone grip his arm.

He looked over to see blazing green eyes and flaming red hair standing a few inches from his face. "Um. Hi, Natasha."

"I need to talk to you." She glanced sideways at Phil, nodding to him. "Alone."

Phil shrugged, waving goodbye with a small smile. "I can see when I'm not wanted. See you around sometime, Natasha." They watched as he trailed off after the Gryffindors, striking up conversation with some older Ravenclaw kid.

"So what's so important that Phil can't hear?" Clint asked, his stomach sinking a bit. She probably wanted to talk about getting revenge on Tony, but Clint wasn't sure he wanted to go through with it anymore. Stark was an arrogant ass, sure, but he seemed decent despite that.

She glanced around at the busy hallway, shaking her head slightly. "Not here." She pulled him further down the hallway, taking a few twists and turns until they stood in a deserted part of the school.

"Look, if this is about Tony, I don't know if I can-"

"Forget Stark. I...I need help." She was glaring at him as she spoke the words, and Clint almost took a step back. Man, she looked _scary._

"I, uh...okay," he stuttered. "What's wrong?"

"There's..." she paused, biting her lower lip for a second before continuing. "The headmaster, Snixley, I think - I _know_ - that he lied when he said that the Gryffindors' injuries were some spell mishap. They were poisoned." She was glancing up and down the hallway, like she was afraid she'd be overheard. Although Clint saw no chance of that - there was no one in sight, not even a ghost.

"Wait, what? How do you know that? _Why_ do you know that?" He put a hand on her shoulder, but she roughly shrugged it off.

"As soon as the Gryffindors fell that night, the food disappeared. Immediately. Why would someone pause to vanish the food when there were injured students to help?" Her eyes were blazing into his own, desperate for him to believe what she was saying.

"Okay, I'll admit that is a bit strange. But that doesn't really mean that they were poisoned," he said.

"No, but it makes a lot more sense than a spell gone wrong in the middle of a feast where everyone was more focused on food and fun that casting spells." She crossed her arms defensively, continuing to glare at him.

"I...okay. Let's say this is actually happening. Let's say that the Gryffindors were actually poisoned. Why would someone do that? _How _would someone do that?" Clint's brain was whirling around in circles, unable to find solid ground. Why did this girl always make his head spin?

Natasha was shaking her head. "I don't know, that's part of the reason I need your help."

More questions were popping in his head every second he stood here. "But why would Snixley lie? How do we even know that he knows, it could have been another teacher. If they _were_ poisoned, then what's the point of trying to cover it-"

"Clint, _I don't know._" She uncrossed her arms and took a step back, the shadows on her face dancing in the torchlight. "All I know for sure is that something isn't right, and I can't do this by myself." She growled that last part, obviously reluctant to speak the words aloud.

"Why me?" he asked. "Why do you care? I mean, doesn't your House hate the Gryffindors?" He realized that the words might offend her, but it was too late. Man, he just couldn't think straight right now...

"The Slytherins _do_ hate the Gryffindors. That's why I couldn't go to any of my Housemates - they wouldn't care. And it's just...if someone is hurting Hogwarts students, I want to stop them."

He nodded, taking her at her word. "Okay. So what do we do? I can tell Phil, maybe he can -"

"No!" she hissed. "No one else can know. Whatever is going on, four students ended up in St. Mungo's. The more people who know, the more danger there is. I only told you because I figured you could keep your mouth shut." She was glaring at him again and Clint gulped audibly.

"But shouldn't everyone know if students are being poisoned or whatever?"

She shook her head. "This has to be done discretely. Whoever hurt the Gryffindors is probably in the school - a student, maybe even a teacher. If we start spreading this around then more kids could get hurt." Clint heard the implication in her voice - _they_ could get hurt.

He sighed, leaning his head against the cool stone wall. "Okay, I'll keep mum. But that still doesn't answer the question of what we're going to do."

Natasha shrugged. "Keep your eyes and ears open. Gather information, see if anyone acts strangely when you mention the Gryffindors." She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Something is wrong in this school," she whispered.

"And I'll help you find out what it is," he promised. He didn't really know how, though. Everyone had seemed pretty torn up about the four Gryffindors being moved to St. Mungo's. Except the Slytherins...maybe he'd start there.

She nodded to him. "Thank you." He opened his mouth to reply, but she was already striding off down the hallway.

"You're welcome!" he shouted to her retreating figure. Man, if Natasha was right about this stuff...they were _so _in over their heads...


	23. Chapter XXIII - Tony

**Thanks for reading and please review with your thoughts :)**

"Tony, will you quit pulling me? I can walk on my own," Miranda said from behind him.

"You're not moving fast enough, this is _important,"_ he whispered hurriedly.

"I swear, if this 'secret meeting' is a repeat of when you tried to convince us that dying Fury's eyepatch pink was a good idea, I'll hurt you," she growled, but still followed him towards his room.

"Well, it _was_ a good idea, in my defense. Just because you and Bruce hid all of my dye - which I _will_ find, by the way - doesn't mean it wouldn't have been awesome." Tony walked into his room, closing the door behind Miranda. Bruce looked up from the book he was reading, rolling his eyes at Miranda.

"Tony dragged you into this, too?" She nodded, shrugging and sitting down on the floor.

"Guys, look. I know I've pulled stupid pranks in the past-" he started.

"If by 'past' you mean about two hours ago, then yes. I agree," Bruce snorted, returning to his book.

"No, just _listen._ This is important. Like mega-shit-is-going-down-here important, okay? This isn't about some prank, this is about something else entirely." Tony was trying to keep his voice down so no one outside would hear him, but he was having trouble controlling himself.

"Okay, so what's this secret meeting about then?" Miranda asked, resting her head on her hands, looking bored.

"It's...I'm not entirely sure just yet."

"So...this mega-important thing isn't really an actual thing at all?" Bruce asked, flipping a page of his book.

"No, it's..." Tony sighed. "Okay, starting over. The day after the Halloween feast, I was walking around, minding my own business, when I see the headmaster walking quickly through the halls. He was looking around, like he was making sure no one saw him, and he was sweating like he was nervous about something. I thought it was suspicious, so I followed him."

"Wow, Tony. Detention twice a week isn't enough? You have to start stalking Snixley, too..." Bruce sighed, but he closed his book and started to actually listen. Finally.

"Whatever, Bruce. The point is that I followed him, and I heard him talking with someone about the Gryffindors being injured."

"But that's not that strange, is it? I mean, four of his students were hospitalized, how is it weird that he talked to someone about it?" Miranda asked.

"Well if you'd _listen,"_ he growled. "He told them that he knew they were going to be injured _beforehand._ And that it was going to happen again."

"Wait, what? Tony, are you serious?" Bruce asked, sitting up straight, now giving Tony his undivided attention. "How could Snixley possibly know about that before it happened?"

"I don't know. The most likely answer is that he caused it, but there _are_ other possibilities. They're just not very probable."

"Who was he talking to?" Miranda asked.

Tony shrugged. "I couldn't see his face without them noticing me, and his voice wasn't familiar. But he was definitely older - not a student."

"Okay, so our headmaster is potentially harming students? This is...bad," Bruce whispered.

"No shit, Brucie. I tried getting into his office a few days ago, but I couldn't figure out the password. I've been trying to follow him around, but I think he's noticed."

"Well shouldn't we tell someone about this? Professor Hill maybe?" Bruce asked.

Tony shook his head quickly. "No way. If the headmaster's involved in this, then any of the other teachers could be, too."

"Some other students, then. Tony, people need to know about this," Miranda said.

"No! The more people who know, the more dangerous it is. Think about it. We think the headmaster - the most powerful and influential wizard in this school - is somehow hurting the students. If we tell others, and it somehow slips that we know...well, the result wouldn't be good."

"But we have to warn people at the very least," Bruce growled.

"We don't even know how the Gryffindors were hurt, do we? Snixley said that it was a mishap with a spell, but if he really has something to do with it..." Miranda trailed off, and Tony noticed her face growing paler as the implications became more clear to her.

"What if we just told people that we trusted to keep it a secret? There's no way the three of us alone can figure this thing out," Bruce said. "Not before it happens again, anyway."

Tony frowned, shaking his head again. "It's too dangerous to involve anyone else. They could get hurt."

"Then why did you tell us?" Miranda asked.

"Because..." Tony paused. Why _had_ he told them? He knew it would only put them in danger, but... "I guess I just needed you guys to know."

"Well I think Phil and Clint should know, at the very least. They can help keep an eye on Snixley, maybe figure out how the Gryffindors were hurt," Bruce said.

"But it would just-" Tony tried to protest, but Bruce was shaking his head.

"Tony, if this is a big as you think it is, then we need more help. And I trust Phil and Clint to keep quiet about this." Miranda was nodding her agreement, and Tony sighed.

"_Fine._ We'll tell them tomorrow morning, but _no one else._" Tony put a hand to his head, feeling a headache coming on. He'd known about this for only a few days but the worry and stress had taken its toll. He couldn't look at a teacher without thinking that they might be involved somehow - that they might be able to read his mind and see that he knew - that they might hurt him, kill him even.

It was no wonder he hadn't been sleeping well.

But now others knew. And although that brought a sense of security - he wasn't alone in this any longer - it also brought a sense of dread. Because as the number of people who knew grew, the chance of discovery grew as well.

And Tony _really_ didn't want to think about what would happen if they were discovered. Nope, no way. Secrecy was definitely the best route at the moment.

At least until they knew more, had more information and evidence. Then they'd be able to act, to stop whatever was wicked in their school.

Hopefully before it was too late.


	24. Chapter XXIV - Phil

**Thanks for reading and please review!**

"Come _on,_ Clint! We're going to miss the cinnamon rolls," Phil moaned, waiting impatiently for his roommate to pull on his shoes.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, jeez," Clint sighed, standing up and following Phil out of the common room. Sometimes Phil was grateful that the Hufflepuff dorms were so close to the kitchens, but as the warm aromas floated through the hallway, as his stomach growled impatiently...maybe living in one of the towers wouldn't have been so bad after all.

Although, then again, they _did_ have the shortest walk to the Great Hall. Always a plus when your roommate was perpetually tardy for breakfast.

They were stopped, however, when a horde of students came pouring out of the Hall. Phil noticed that they all looked scared and worried, and he felt his stomach drop. Something had happened.

"Hey, what's-" Clint caught up with him, staring at the crowd in confusion. "Did something happen?" he asked Phil.

Phil shrugged, then started moving against the crowd, into the Great Hall, Clint following. He had almost made it when he bumped into someone, sending them both sprawling onto the floor. "Sorry, sorry!" Phil called, picking himself up.

"No, no, completely my fault," Bruce's voice greeted him.

"Oh, hi Bruce," Phil smiled, leaning over to help his friend off the floor. "What happened? Why is everyone leaving - breakfast shouldn't end for another ten minutes." Phil knew in his gut that something was wrong - you only had to look at the other students' faces to see that - but he could still hope that it was something as simple as Filch announcing a ban on magical candy.

"Oh, about that, uh..." Bruce trailed off, glancing around.

"Coulson, Barton! Just the faces I was looking for. Come right this way, we need to discuss some things in relative privacy..." Tony came out of no where, grabbed Bruce's arm and started dragging him with the crowd. Phil glanced at Clint, who just shrugged and followed them. Phil sighed in defeat. He had _really_ wanted some cinnamon rolls...

They followed Tony to an abandoned Charms classroom, and he waited for them to file in before closing the door behind him. _"Muffliato,"_ he whispered, waving his wand at the door.

"What was that spell, Tony? I don't remember ever learning it," Phil asked, curious. Honestly he was more curious about why they had been dragged to an abandoned classroom, but he was willing to let that issue slide for a bit longer.

"It keeps people from listening in to conversations. My dad used to use it when I would try and eavesdrop on his business meetings..." Tony trailed off, moving to sit on top of one of the desks.

Clint perched atop one of the desk as well, and Bruce leaned against the wall. Phil stayed where he was, listening as Tony and Bruce explained how the headmaster had had prior knowledge of the attacks on the Gryffindors, and how there was indications that there might be more attacks.

How one of those attacks had just happened this morning.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You think the _headmaster_ is actually hurting the students for whatever reason? Snixley. The same guy I saw conjuring butterflies to make a girl stop crying not two weeks ago?" Clint asked dubiously.

"It looks that way, yeah," Tony sighed. "Look, I don't know if he's actually the one behind everything, I just know that he's involved somehow."

"Who was hurt this time?" Phil asked. "Was it more Gryffindors?"

Bruce shook his head, "I think it was the Slytherins. That's where the commotion started, anyways."

Phil nodded, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. "Okay. So someone - maybe the headmaster, maybe someone else - is targeting students. Not just one House, either. So whoever it is probably has some grudge against the school - or maybe specific students? Do the one's who were hurt have anything in common?"

"What would Snixley have against the school? He runs it, for crying out loud," Clint grumbled.

Tony shrugged. "Dunno, something to figure out. But I don't think they have anything in common - all different years, two different Houses, no one's in the same clubs that I know of, different blood statuses...the only thing they share is that they go to Hogwarts."

Bruce sighed, sinking to the floor. "What are we going to do?"

"We could tell someone," Phil said. "Maybe someone at the Ministry. Tony, your dad has connections with them, right? And Thor's father is the Minister himself, they'd be able to figure it out."

Tony frowned. "I'd rather not go to my dad. I doubt he'd even believe me - would anyone? We don't have any proof beyond my word."

Phil frowned, knowing there was truth in the statement. "So how do we get proof?" Clint asked.

"Well, we need to figure out exactly _how_ the students are being injured - what spell they're using. Maybe see if there's actually a connection between them, or if Phil's right and whoever it is is just targeting the school in general. Figuring out the motive might lead us to the person behind this," Tony said.

"If we can figure out the who and how, someone might believe us," Bruce said, nodding.

Phil nodded as well, his brain spinning with the implications of all of this. Whoever was hurting the students of Hogwarts was probably in the school - they'd have easy access for casting whatever spell this was. And they'd have to be powerful - either the headmaster or a teacher. Phil felt his stomach clench in worry, knowing that he could be in the very same building as a very sick criminal.

He noticed Clint's face was pretty pale as they stood up to go to their morning classes. As the Hufflepuffs headed toward Herbology, Clint opened his mouth to say something to Phil, but closed it quickly, shaking his head.

"Do you think we should tell Thor?" Phil asked, filling the silence in an effort to quiet his thoughts.

Clint shrugged, staring at the ground as they walked. "I dunno. I mean, I trust him, but at the same time...he's a bit loud about everything."

Phil nodded, thinking back to the week that Thor had ran around the school, telling everyone he knew - and many he didn't - that he had gotten a passing mark in Potions. "I say we tell him. I think he'll keep it a secret if we stress the importance of keeping quiet. Plus, his dad's head of the Ministry - the most powerful wizard in England. Once we find out who's behind this, it'll be easier to inform the authorities."

Clint waved to Thor through the walls of the greenhouse, then hesitated as the small blonde boy waved as well. "Okay, so we tell Thor, but what about Steve?"

Phil paused, glancing at the boy through the glass walls. "I don't know. He seems like a good kid, but he only came here a few days ago. Maybe we should wait until we know him better."

Clint nodded in agreement. "I'll see if I can get Thor alone before lunch. Maybe ask him to come get pop tarts with me or something..." Clint sighed, and they walked into the greenhouse together, sitting down with their Gryffindor friends. Longbottom ran in a few seconds later, looking sad and deflated, but he smiled in front of the students. Phil felt his stomach clench again, thinking of those poor students who had been injured, who were probably on their way to St. Mungo's...

They had to figure out what was going on. They had to stop this madness before it was too late.


	25. Chapter XXV - Bruce

**Sorry it's a bit late, finals are coming up. Updates might be a bit sporadic for a few weeks.**

Bruce sighed as Tony dragged him toward the Great Hall for dinner. "Tony, I told you. I'm not in the mood to eat."

"No can do, Brucie. We've gotta keep up our strength if we're going to have any change of unraveling this mystery." Tony glanced back at him, grinning. "Besides, it's pizza night!"

Bruce sighed heavily again, but resigned himself to letting Tony drag him through the hallways. It wasn't just that several Slytherins had been injured that morning that had his stomach clenching up. He'd been hearing rumors all day that it was the Gryffindors retaliating, that they'd managed to injure anywhere from two to fifteen of the green and silver House.

No, it wasn't just a potential House war brewing that had his stomach tied up in knots. He had changed a few nights ago, but something had been...different this time. When he'd woken up in the forest, he'd immediately thrown up - something bloody and mangled and not altogether pleasant.

It was the first time he'd eaten something in wolf form, and it worried him. And not only because his stomach still hadn't recovered three days later. Maybe his wolf was getting a taste for flesh? Was that normal? Or would he start going after everything that moved soon, like maybe hu-

"Brucie, you okay there? It's just pizza, nothing to get upset over," Tony joked, but gave him a worried glance. Bruce smiled at him, trying to bury his worries beneath a toothy grin.

They grabbed seats at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, Tony scooping several large slices of steaming sausage onto his plate. Bruce reached for a slice of cheese after Tony glared at him. He was sure it tasted delicious to everyone else, but to him it felt like swallowing a wad of dusty glue.

And then Miranda was there, slamming several thick books down before grabbing a slice off of Tony's plate. "Are we still going to Hagrid's after we eat?" she asked, swallowing her food.

"Hey, I was eating that!" Tony protested, making a grab for his stolen food. Miranda just batted his hands away, taking another bite. Tony sighed, sitting back down. "Yeah, I guess we're going. I want to see if he knows of any teachers that might be doing this - maybe some former Death Eater's kid or something."

"I really doubt Hagrid knows anyone like that," Bruce muttered, forcing himself to swallow another bite.

Tony shrugged, frowning. "I heard he hangs out at the Boar's Head a lot, and you know what kind of characters you get in there sometimes..."

Miranda shook her head quickly, glaring at Tony. "Hagrid doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body. If he knew who was hurting the students he'd probably break them into a million pieces with his bare hands."

"No, no, I'm not saying he's _involved,_" Tony clarified quickly. "I'm just saying he might know something without _knowing_ he knows something, you know?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, noticing that the Hall was growing even quieter than it had been before. He looked up to see that Snixley had stood up and was approaching the podium. He cleared his throat a few times and tapped his wand against the wooden stand, making sure that everyone was quiet and attentive before he began to speak.

"As I'm sure you're aware, we had another incident at breakfast this morning." Tony perked up immediately, even putting his pizza down to give Snixley his full attention. "Two Slytherins have been relocated to St. Mungo's, and are currently in stable condition. As this is the second time a spell has gone awry during mealtimes, I will remind you that unauthorized spellwork outside of classes is strictly prohibited. If anyone has information on who may have accidentally injured these students, I ask that you please confide in either myself or one of the professors. We will also be issuing a curfew until further notice - all students should be in their common rooms no later than nine in the evening. That is all."

The Hall erupted, students discussing the new events. Quite a few yelled their disagreement with the new curfew, but Snixley strode calmly out of the Hall. Bruce glanced at Tony, who was frowning at his plate, lost in thought.

Tony nodded to himself and stood up suddenly, glancing between Bruce and Miranda. "Okay, we need a meeting. Time to go to Hagrid's."

Bruce stood up as well. "I'll go get Clint and Phil."

Tony nodded in agreement. "We'll meet in the entrance hall, okay?" Bruce nodded and started moving across to the Hufflepuff table, looking for his two friends. Clint saw him first and waved him over.

"Are we still going to Hagrid's?" he asked. "Because Thor wants to meet him." Clint jerked his thumb at a large blonde Gryffindor inhaling several slices of pizza simultaneously. The boy - Thor - waved at Bruce and smiled, revealing teeth that were covered in tomato sauce. Bruce tried to smile in return before turning back to Clint.

"We were, ah, going to discuss _things_ before heading over there."

Phil looked up briefly from where he was talking with a smaller Gryffindor. "Ah, we might have told Thor about _things._"

Oh, Tony was going to be _pissed._ "Okay, I guess he can come, then...We're going to meet in the entrance hall."

Phil and Clint nodded, standing up. Clint elbowed Thor, who inhaled another slice and stood up as well. "Steve should come as well, yes?" he asked.

Bruce hesitated. He didn't know either of these Gryffindors, and Tony was going to be reluctant enough with Thor along. "Ah, I don't know if-"

"It's okay," the smaller boy spoke up. "I get it. I've got to go catch up with classes anyway. I'll see you guys later," he waved before walking quickly out of the Hall. Bruce frowned slightly, knowing that the boy, Steve, seemed really familiar...but he didn't share any classes with Gryffindors. Maybe he'd seen him somewhere in the hallways? But it seemed like more than that...

He shook his head slightly, pushing the mystery aside for another time. He walked with the others to the entrance hall, where they found Tony writing something on the wall with his wand. As Bruce grew closer he saw that it was what appeared to be a gummy bear eating a nuclear warhead. Tony stepped back and frowned at his creation critically. "I don't know how to make it move."

Phil was looking the colorful monstrosity up and down. "In any case, we should probably clear the area before Filch finds this."

"Nah, I hear Stark _likes_ detention," Clint grinned, nodding his approval at the drawing. "Does the gummy bear have a whipped cream beard? Nice."

Bruce rolled his eyes at Phil, who shrugged in return. A voice suddenly boomed from behind him, and Bruce almost fell forward in shock, thinking that it was a professor. "Hello! My name is Thor, pleased to make your acquaintance!"

Oh, yeah. Bruce had forgotten about the Gryffindor. He turned around to see Thor shaking Miranda's hand while Tony watched curiously. He slid closer to Bruce. "Why is the Minister's son here? We were going to have a meeting. A _secret_ meeting," he whispered.

Bruce shrugged. "Phil and Clint told him about our theories." He mentally cringed, anticipating an explosion of annoyance and anger on Tony's part. And his roommate did not disappoint.

"You _told_ him?" Tony yelled, rounding on Clint. "Do you not understand just how serious this is? How dangerous? And you go telling a loudmouth lion?" Clint was backing away from Tony, hands held passively in front of him.

"Tony, I don't think-" Phil started.

"No, that's right. You _didn't_ think. If you had one _ounce_ of brainpower you would have seen just how _bad_ of an idea this was. But, no, you stupid puffballs are too afraid of offending anyone to-"

"Tony I will hex you if you don't shut up!" Miranda yelled.

"Maybe we should move this outside," Bruce said. "You know, where the entire school can't overhear us." He grabbed Tony and guided him away from Clint, toward the grounds. Tony allowed Bruce to move him, breathing heavily and glaring at everyone.

Thor was standing there, looking back and forth between the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs. "I do not wish to cause trouble, I only wish to help."

Clint moved forward and patted the large blonde on the shoulder. "We know, big guy. Stark's just a bit of a control freak." Bruce could hear the ever-so-slight tremor in his voice as he spoke, however, betraying his calm exterior. They walked out onto the grounds, Tony stomping ahead to a small grove of trees. Bruce shivered slightly in the chill November air, making a mental note to wear his cloak from now on.

Phil walked up to Tony as everyone caught up. "Look, we know this is dangerous, we get that. But Clint and I trust Thor, and we thought he could help."

Tony shook his head slowly and seemed to deflate a bit. "Whatever, there's nothing we can do now short of _Obliviate_-ing his mind, right?" He sighed and kicked half-heartedly at a tree. "Just don't tell anyone else, okay? That goes for you too, Odinson. What we're doing could get us hurt, and I can't stress the fact that the more people who know, the more chance there is of us getting caught."

Thor nodded and put his hand over his heart. "I shall not speak a word outside this group." Tony stared at him for a few seconds before nodding.

"Okay then. Off to Hagrid's we go."

The group made their way down the path, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Bruce couldn't help but think that things were going to get out of control soon. He was keeping _way_ too many secrets for his comfort. Just the fact that he was a danger to every single person in this school was hard enough to deal with.

Constantly afraid that someone would notice his moonlight adventures, that he'd hurt someone, that he'd be thrown in Azkaban for breaking the laws...and now he had to worry that some professor - probably Snixley - would find out and hurt his friends.

Bruce sighed to himself, roughly kicking a rock and watching as it bounced off the path and into the grass. Life just wasn't fair.

"Oi! Ev'ryone's comin' ter visit me, eh?" Bruce looked up to see Hagrid waving at their group from behind a large fence. "Come out back, I got something ter show yeh!"

"This had better not be another three-headed puppy, Hagrid!" Clint shouted. "The last one nearly bit my nose off."

"Who, Fluffy's pup? Nah, Candy wouldn' hurt a fly!" he yelled, opening the wooden gate so they could step inside. Bruce gazed around, seeing many oversized vegetables and flowers. "Jus me garden, nothin' special." He led them around the back of the house, where Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

There, sitting in the middle of Hagrid's backyard was what appeared to be a saber-toothed tiger. Sleeping, thank god. "Uh, Hagrid? Is that-" Clint started, backing up wearily.

"I found her in the forest, ain't she a beauty? An' she's the sweetest thing, too, always tryin' ter nibble me and tickle me tummy with her little claws!" Hagrid approached the sleeping tiger and reached down to pet it, and Bruce felt his eyes grow wide. If that thing killed Hagrid right here...

"So, Hagrid! I, uh, heard you made some fudge! And poor Thor here's never had the chance to taste it. Boy, that'd be a shame, wouldn't it, guys?" Tony asked, looking at them for backup.

"Oh, yeah! I'd bet you'd love it Thor. It's very, uh, sweet. And it definitely has a unique texture," Clint said, nodding eagerly.

"Yeah, Hagrid. We'll meet your friend there another time, okay? Let's just go inside..." Phil said, backing up and dragging Clint with him.

Hagrid looked up and shrugged. "Alrigh', if yeh say so. But she'll be so sad that she didn' meet yeh...guess it's better ter let her sleep." the large man sighed, but stood up and walked toward the house, causing the entire group to sigh collectively in relief. Crisis averted.

Hagrid ushered them back to the front of the house and through the front door, babbling about his fudge and how much he hoped Thor would like it. To his credit, Thor actually looked _excited_ to try Hagrid's cooking. Poor kid didn't know what he was in for.

They all filed inside and sat around Hagrid's enormous table, looking upon the large plate of fudge with dread. Thor smiled widely and grinned up at Hagrid. "Thank you kindly for this treat!"

Bruce winced internally as Thor popped a piece in his mouth. He waited for the inevitable - the crunch, the eyes going wide and face slackening in shock. But it never came. Thor just kept chewing. And then he swallowed. And then he took another piece. "This is delicious!" he shouted.

Bruce looked at Tony, who just shrugged. Phil was nudging Clint, nodding his head discreetly at the fudge. Clint was shaking his head, growing slightly pale. "C'mon, Thor's eating it. It can't be _that_ bad this time," Bruce heard Phil mutter.

"_You_ try it then," Clint whispered back.

Hagrid had been dragging another, well, Hagrid-sized chair over to the table and was just sitting down again. "I'm glad yeh like 'em, it's an old recipe. Always been a favorite."

Thor nodded in agreement, grabbing another handful of fudge. "So, Hagrid. What do you think of the students being hurt?" Tony asked, none too tactfully.

Hagrid's face immediately darkened, morphing into a mixture of sadness and anger. "We'll find whoever's doin' it, don't yeh worry."

"Who do you think could be behind it though?" Tony asked.

Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. "Dunno, Snixley thinks it's a prankster who doesn' know what they're doin'."

"But you must have some idea, right?" Phil asked. "I mean, you've been at Hogwarts for most of your life, right?"

Hagrid nodded. "Aye, it's me home. But I dunno anyone who'd do this on purpose short of Voldemort 'imself."

"Maybe they're new here, or are just..._around,"_ Bruce said, vaguely waving his hand. "Like they're staying at Hogsmeade or they're new to the school. Visitors or something." He believed Tony about Snixley being involved somehow, but he still thought all options should be explored.

"Anyone acting shifty or suspicious? Maybe someone you wouldn't immediately suspect, someone in a position of power in the school..." Tony trailed off.

Hagrid eyed Tony carefully. "Yeh sayin' yeh think it's a teacher?"

"No no no, that's not what he's saying, is it Tony?" Phil jumped in quickly. "He just thinks it's weird that the only Houses to be attacked were each other's rivals."

"The attack on the Slytherins could have been in retaliation for the Gryffindors," Clint spoke up. "I mean, a lot of people suspected the Slytherins were behind it..."

"No, my House was not behind any attack. We were sad and angry, yes, but we didn't attack anyone," Thor said through a mouthful of fudge.

"Aye, Gryffindor wouldn' be so cowardly as ter use some shifty spellwork. They'd attack 'em head-on if they thought Slytherin were behind ev'rythin'," Hagrid said, nodding in self-assurance.

"Well, who do you think it could be, then?" Bruce asked.

Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. "Dunno, but we'll find him, don' yeh worry. Ah, tha' reminds me...Clint, Miranda, I got yeh two jobs!"

"Umm...why?" Miranda asked, glancing sideways at Clint.

"Well, I thought yeh'd like some spendin' money fer the summer. We'll be goin' ter Diagon Alley an' Hogsmeade a lot. An' I talked ter Snixley an' got yeh jobs helpin' out aroun' the castle." Hagrid was grinning and looking really proud of himself, and Bruce saw Clint and Miranda give him small smiles.

Oh, yeah. They didn't have homes outside of Hogwarts. Bruce kept forgetting that. He supposed they'd just stay here over the summer and breaks with Hagrid and Filch or something. Oh, Filch aught to be a _joy_ on breaks...Bruce internally cringed, realizing that others had it bad too, that life wasn't fair to anyone.

"Well, what would we be doing?" Clint asked.

"Yeh'll be helpin' out in the Owlry, feedin' 'em and cleanin' cages." Clint made a face and Hagrid laughed. "It's not hard, yeh can use yer wand. Mostly yeh'll just be makin' sure they're not hurt an' that they have enough food an' water."

Bruce could see Clint thinking, then he nodded. "Okay, that doesn't sound too bad. How much money would I be getting?"

"A few sickles a night. An' Miranda'll be helpin' Madame Willis in the infirmary. Nothin' too gruesome, but yeh'll get supplies an' things fer her, run errands, stuff like that." Miranda nodded, smiling at Hagrid. "Yeh both start on Friday, jus go ter Headmaster Snixley fer yer payment ev'ry week."

"Oh, crap," Phil exclaimed. "We gotta head back, it's almost nine!"

Bruce was confused for a brief second before he remembered Snixley's announcement at dinner. Everyone stood up and said goodbye to Hagrid, Clint, Miranda, and Thor thanking him several times before exiting his house.

"Oh," Thor said, stopping abruptly in the doorway. "I forgot to go to Astronomy." He frowned at the ground for a few seconds before his face lit up. "Oh, Steve will have taken notes. I can borrow them!" he announced before prancing off of Hagrid's porch.

"Yeh should come back on Saturday, I'm makin' me grandmum's famous kidney-stone cookies!" Hagrid called as they made their way back toward the castle. Bruce suppressed an inner shutter, promising himself that he'd be unusually busy this Saturday.

The group split up in the Entrance Hall, Phil and Clint going down to their common room while Thor ran to Gryffindor Tower yelling about roommates. The Ravenclaws made their way to their own Tower, Tony talking about how he was _sure_ that Snixley was involved in all this mess. Bruce just let his mind drift, thinking about how they were in way over their heads.

"The more you take, the more you leave behind," came the knocker's riddle. Bruce frowned, trying to think, but his brain was too cluttered to do much good with riddles.

"Oh, crap..." Tony muttered.

"Footsteps?" Miranda asked hesitantly.

"Very good, but with a bit less profanity next time," the door muttered as it swung open.

The Ravenclaws walked inside, Tony dragging Bruce and Miranda off to his room for "Strategy Making Time!" Never mind that it was a school night and Bruce still had to draw a diagram of Angel's Bane for Herbology the next morning...he sighed to himself. Ah, well. He supposed trying to uncover evil plots demanded some sacrifices.


	26. Chapter XXVI - Loki

**And after a month-long hiatus, Hogwartvengers is back! Sorry for the delay, I should be back to bi-weekly updates from now to the end of the fic. Thank you for your patience and for all of the reviews/follows/readers. I greatly appreciate you all! **

"Hey, Natasha, I need to talk to you for a minute." Loki's ears perked as he heard some Hufflepuff whisper to Natasha as they left Herbology.

"Right now, Clint? I have to go to Transfiguration." Loki could hear the frown in her voice, and he smiled gleefully as he followed behind them. He didn't know what this little Hufflepuff wanted with Natasha, but he was certainly in for a rude awakening. She would barely even converse with members of her own House beyond what was necessary - there was no way she'd go off with this little bumblebee.

"And I have Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll walk you to Hill's class."

"Clint, I'm perfectly capable of walking myself." Man, Loki could just *hear* her eyes roll.

"Natasha, it's _important_. It's about, uh," Loki saw Clint glance around quickly, making sure no one was listening. Loki quickly averted his gaze, suddenly becoming extremely interested in the school's architecture. "You know. Stuff."

Well. Secrecy, eh? He wondered if Natasha was scheming without him, and determined that he had to find out. If she was simply _using_ this Hufflepuff, well, that was fine. But if she was actually _working_ with him - well. Something must be done about that.

Slytherin was the greatest House, as far as he was now concerned. Stupid lions, know-it-all birds, spineless badgers. A Slytherin need not stoop below themselves and associate with other Houses.

Natasha sighed, and Loki saw her nod her head slightly. "Fine. But if I'm late to class I'm going to hex you for every point that gets deducted."

_Well now, this won't do,_ Loki thought to himself as he followed the pair across the grounds. He couldn't have one of his House scheming in secret with a lowly badger of all people. At least the Gryffindors were brave, the Ravenclaws smart. Hufflepuffs? All they were good for was making good hot chocolate, as far as Loki was concerned.

If Natasha was working with this kid, well. Loki certainly wanted to see what it was all about.

"Yes, yes. I promise to deliver you safe and sound before midnight, dear princess."

"I'm sorry?" Loki was as confused as Natasha sounded. It was mid-morning, nowhere near midnight. And Natasha wasn't of royal blood, as far as Loki knew.

"Midnight? Like in Cinderella?" Natasha must have looked even more confused, because Clint started babbling about pumpkin carriages and glass slippers. Man, how much butterbeer had this kid had?

Loki started falling back once he realized that this Cinderella thing was only a stupid Muggle story and not of any importance. He followed the two into the school, and watched as they made their way to an abandoned classroom close to the Transfiguration room.

He reached into his bag and pulled out an Extendable Ear, placing it against the door. Whatever was important enough to get Natasha Romanoff to talk with a muggle-born Hufflepuff of all people was enough to ignite Loki's curiosity.

"-do you mean, we should tell them? _Stark_ of all people?" He heard Natasha whisper harshly.

Stark? That unimportant arrogant dung beetle that grated on Loki's every nerve. Maybe these two would give him some information that he could use in his plans to put that little birdy in his proper place.

"I know the guy can be an ass sometimes, but they need to know the bigger picture. Look, this thing could get really dangerous-"

"Which is why I told you to not tell _anyone!_ What part of we-could-be-killed did you not understand?"

Loki felt his blood rushing through his veins. They could be killed? What had this Hufflepuff dragged Natasha into? And what did Stark have to do with it?

"I didn't tell them, they came to me! The Ravenclaws figured out part of it by themselves. Natasha, you're not the only one who notices things in this school, you know."

"I _know_ that," she growled. "But everyone knowing will just put them all in danger."

"They already know enough to be dangerous to whoever's behind this. The more information they have the safer they'll be at this point."

Silence fell for a few seconds, and Loki pressed himself closer to the door, making sure that no one else was in the corridor to see him. He heard Natasha sigh.

"Fine, I see your point. Did Stark figure out anything that we haven't?" Even from behind the door, Loki could hear how begrudgingly she spoke the last sentence.

"He thinks the Headmaster might be behind it." Snixley? Involved in something that could apparently get these two killed? What was going on?

"Seriously? Snixley? The man seems a bit slimy, but I don't think he could be poisoning students." Oh. Loki felt the pieces click together in his mind. He'd assumed the Gryffindors and Slytherins being injured had been the result of some House feud that he hadn't been privy to, but maybe...both incidents had been at mealtimes, after all.

"We think he's involved in some way, at least. He's the _Headmaster._ He should know what's going on in his own school, right? Plus Tony saw him acting suspiciously. He said Snixley knew about the poisonings beforehand."

"Well, we thought is was a teacher..." Natasha mused aloud. "I didn't think it could be Snixley though."

"We have to tell them what you found out - that the attacks are probably poisonings and not spells. We have to work together, Natasha." The Hufflepuff sounded pretty desperate.

"Clint, I don't work well with others," Natasha sighed. "Especially with Stark."

"I know, but...we need you, Natasha."

Silence fell again, and Loki heard footsteps approaching the door. He hurriedly tucked the Extendable Ear back into his bag while stepping farther into the corridor. "I have to go to class, Clint, and so do you," she called as she opened the door. "I'll talk to you later. I need to think."

She stopped when she saw Loki, who was calmly walking along the empty corridor. He waved to her, being sure to keep his face composed.

"Hey, Natasha. Hill's going to be angry if we don't hurry up!" he called, quickly walking past her.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered as they made their way to Transfiguration in silence. As he sat down and took out his notebook, Loki kept thinking about what he had stumbled onto and what he should do about it.

The Headmaster could be poisoning the students.

But how likely was that, really? Snixley was an accomplished wizard. If he wanted to, he could probably wipe out half the school without much difficulty. Why would he bother with poison?

Maybe he wanted to throw off suspicion?

Loki shrugged mentally. Not his problem. He didn't want to become involved in this - in something that was obviously dangerous and had no benefits to him whatsoever. Let these other idiots deal with it.

He'd keep watch though. His curiosity was roaring. It was best to know what these idiots were doing so he could avoid whatever damage was sure to follow. As far as he knew, only Natasha, Clint the bumblebee, and Stark were involved. Although the Hufflepuff had mentioned "Ravenclaws." Plural.

He'd just have to watch and listen. Maybe he could get Glottwit and Felch to help spy. He hated to admit it, but he couldn't gather enough information very quickly without help.

What he couldn't understand was why Natasha was helping them. She had nothing to gain from this at all. So why do it? Why risk her wellbeing to help these idiots - _Stark_ of all people - with something that didn't concern her? It made no sense.

And it made Loki kind of angry.

A Slytherin shouldn't be fraternizing with Hufflepuffs. Shouldn't be selflessly helping others - at least, not people that they don't know.

Leave that kind of stupid bravery for the Gryffindors.

He sighed to himself as he took notes. He'd wait, for now. He'd watch. But he wouldn't interfere, and he certainly wouldn't help.

Not without something to gain, at least.


	27. Chapter XXVII - Steve

**I'm so sorry for the unintentional hiatus. Life and summer kind of distracted me a bit. Thank you for staying with the story and reading, reviewing, following, ect. **

"So you're saying the headmaster could be behind what's going on?" Steve asked, shaking his head in disbelief. _ Man, kind of makes me with I'd been dropped in a different century_, he thought to himself.

Thor was nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, exactly. Well, we believe so, anyway." He frowned, glancing off to the side and staring at the large lion tapestry that hung in the common room. "I have met Snixley before when he visited my father on business, but he never seemed,,,evil."

"Maybe he's not." Steve tried to comfort his friend. "You said there's a chance he has nothing to do with this."

"Yes, this is true. But unlikely. Stark heard him say that he knew about the attacks _beforehand."_

Steve sighed, rubbing his head with his hand. "Well we need to tell someone about this - a teacher. If he _is_ involved, we can't very well take down the headmaster. You can't even do a decent Leviosa yet, let alone offensive or defensive spells."

Thor frowned at him, his brow furrowing. "You think it will come to a fight?"

Steve shrugged. "Well it might. Whoever's doing this is determined and won't just stop if we ask nicely."

"You Americans are so eager for violence," Thor laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "But we cannot tell anyone about this - I was not even supposed to tell you. Stark says that any of the teachers could be involved - not just Snixley."

"And if the wrong person found out about our suspicions we could all be in danger. I know, I know." Steve sighed, rubbing his forehead harder. "But what about Longbottom? He's the Gryffindor Head, and he doesn't strike me as the type to be involved with some evil plot to harm the students."

Thor frowned again, thinking hard. "Yes, I trust Longbottom, but I believe Stark has a point as well. The less people who know the safer we will be."

"Yeah, but the more dangerous it is for everyone _else_," Steve muttered. "Why did you tell me, anyway?" he asked a bit louder.

Thor's blue eyes locked onto Steve's own. "Because you are my friend."

Steve blinked a few times, at a loss for words.

He'd lost every single one of his friends just a few short weeks ago. He tried not to think about it, but it would all come rushing back to him at the most inopportune times. Like in the middle of a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. That one hadn't been fun. The scary man with the eyepatch had not been very helpful.

He supposed the reason he hadn't completely flipped out and gone crazy was because Hogwarts was basically the same as it had been seventy years ago. There were small differences, sure - a new statue here, a different painting there - but the atmosphere was still the same. He could almost convince himself that it was still 1942.

But then he'd look up and see Professor Fury standing where Professor Merrythought should have been. Or he'd turn to tell Peggy something in the corridors and remember that she was at least eighty years old now, or buried six feet under the ground.

Needless to say, it had been a tough week.

And to hear Thor, this big, loud kid call him his friend...it made Steve feel warm. Maybe he'd get through this, maybe he could learn to actually live here instead of just going through the motions.

A surge of determination rushed through him suddenly, making him feel alive for the first time since he landed on that Ravenclaw. He had to help Thor, had to help the students here. This was his home now, whether he liked it or not, and he had to protect it with everything he had.

And that meant convincing this Stark character to trust him, and to trust a teacher or two. Because Steve didn't think they could protect this entire school on their own.

"Hey, Thor?" His friend looked away from what appeared to be two upperclassmen untangling themselves from animated parchment that was trying to strangle them. "Can you show me who Stark is? I want to talk to him."

Thor nodded eagerly. "Yes, that is a good idea. You have seen him before, I believe. He came to whisk me away to the house of Hagrid a few days ago." Steve frowned. There were so many new faces recently that they all blended together. The only one that he could actually picture was Hagrid's because, well, you just couldn't forget Hagrid. "I will introduce you two at dinner."

"Thanks," Steve muttered. "Here, you still need help with Spongify, right? Try it on the table."

After a half dozen botched attempts at teaching Thor how to make an object softer, Steve sighed in defeat. The best Thor had managed was to make the table grow spikes and start spinning around in a vortex of doom. An upperclassman had managed to turn it into a table lamp before it impaled anyone, luckily.

Needless to say, they decided to give up on spellwork for the night.

~.~.~

"Well, class, I think it's about time for dinner, don't you think?" The Slytherins and Gryffindors all surged toward the door as one cohesive unit, leaving their books and quills behind in the tower for the second half of class. "Don't forget to bring your telescopes for later! We're going to chart a few constellations after you eat!" Professor Johnson yelled as she hurriedly followed the crowd of students down the steps and toward the Great Hall.

Thor ran full speed toward the food, dragging Steve along while people in less of a hurry moved quickly out of their way. He swore he saw one girl dive desperately out of the way, trying to avoid being flattened by the charging blonde. Honestly, who could blame her? Thor was like a monster when food was involved.

Thanks to his sprinting, they managed to get there before all the good food was taken. They weaved their way over to the Hufflepuff table, where Thor seemed to be a regular for some reason. And now Steve by default, because he honestly felt a bit weird sitting over at the Gryffindor table without Thor.

"Yo, the lions have arrived at last," Clint gave them a mock salute while chewing on what looked like lasagna. Steve helped himself to a spoonful of mashed potatoes and some macaroni and cheese while Thor loaded up on whatever was within reach.

"Sorry, Professor Johnson kept us late. She got behind schedule because she dazed out again for a few minutes," Steve said before taking a sip from his goblet. Cool milk ran down his throat, and he smiled to himself. Have to drink as much as possible in order to grow big and strong, right? "She seems to do that quite often."

"Yeah, you'll get used to it. Hey, that's right! Today marks three weeks that you've been here, doesn't it? How're you holding up?" Phil asked.

The official story had been that Steve was an exchange student from America, to keep students from constantly bombarding him with awkward questions that he wasn't ready to answer. He'd told those Gryffindors before he'd really had a chance to think about it properly, before he'd been aware that the headmaster had created a cover story for him. Luckily, though, they didn't seem to have spread the information. He'd told Clint and Phil a few days ago; he'd been tired of lying to them.

Honestly, he was okay with the students knowing he was from the past. Surely stranger things had happened at Hogwarts. But when he'd approached the Headmaster about it after dinner a week or so ago, he'd assured Steve that it was in his best interests to keep the secret for a little while longer.

"I'm doing alright," Steve gave Phil a small smile. "Quidditch sure helped, thoroughly trouncing the Slytherins like that. The homework, though...not so much," he laughed.

"Seriously, Hill is trying to drown us or something!" Clint sighed. "I swear, we're doing the work of third years in that class. I won't be surprised if we start learning human transfiguration next week."

"It's not _that_ bad," Phil nudged his friend with his elbow.

"That's easy for you to say, you weren't the one who was turned into a purple bunny today," Clint grumbled.

"Hey, at least you were a cute bunny," Phil laughed.

"She turned me into a roll of toilet paper yesterday," Thor said. "I think I was two ply, I felt quite sturdy and soft."

Steve snorted, almost choking on his food. He hadn't yet had the pleasure of being transformed into something, mainly because he stayed quiet and did his work, unlike Thor and Clint.

"Oh yeah? And how was that?" Clint asked, rolling his eyes.

"Quite enjoyable, actually," Thor said thoughtfully. "Much preferable to being a teapot." He suddenly craned his head, looking toward the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. "Steve, do you see that Ravenclaw standing up to leave? The one with the spiky hair who's rolling his eyes."

Steve scanned the Ravenclaw table for a few seconds before spying a boy about his hight with gelled, spiky brown hair starting to head out of the Hall. "Is that Stark?" he asked Thor.

He nodded. "Yes, if we leave now I can introduce you," he said, but Steve caught the forlorn look he was giving his plate of food.

"Nah, it's okay. I can handle this by myself," Steve smiled as he started to stand up to intercept the boy in the hallway.

"Hey, why do you want to meet Tony?" Clint asked before Steve could leave. "Asking him for help with Defense Against the Dark Arts? Because, trust me, you're wasting your time. He'll just make fun of you for not knowing all seventeen weaknesses of a pixie," he grumbled.

"I, uh, kind of informed him of the Thing we are doing. With the Headmaster?" Thor whispered.

"Oh, uhhh..." Clint and Phil both looked between the two Gryffindors with surprise. "Well, okay."

Steve shrugged. "Stark seems to be in charge, so I want to speak with him, that's all." He peered toward the entrance, where he saw said Ravenclaw leaving. "Now if you'll excuse me I'm afraid I'm about to lose my chance," he said, hurrying off.

But not before hearing a whispered "Tony's gonna be so _pissed."_ come from behind him.

Steve quickly exited the Hall, glancing down the hallways, trying to catch a glimpse of Stark. He thought he saw a cloak turn a corner to his right and ran after it. He rounded the corner quickly, seeing the Ravenclaw a few dozen feet ahead of him, whistling to himself as he walked.

"Tony Stark?" Steve called, slowing his pace to a fast walk.

Stark stopped and turned around, eyeing Steve as he caught up. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet. I am Steve Rogers, nice to meet you," he stuck out his hand for Tony to shake, but he just stared at it.

"Oh, you're the exchange student," he nodded to himself. "What do you want?"

Well, if he wasn't going to have any manners, Steve figured he'd cut to the chase. "I know how you're investigating the Headmaster in relation to the injuries that have occurred within both my House and Slyther-"

He was cut off as Stark's hand covered his mouth and his eyes grew wide, scanning the hallway. "Holy _shit_ are you an idiot?" he whispered as he grabbed Steve's arm and dragged him off further down the hallway, into an empty classroom. It wasn't until the door was closed and he had whispered a spell that he spoke another word. "What if someone had been listening?" he growled at Steve.

"There wasn't anyone in the hallway," Steve said, slightly taken aback. "I checked before I said anything."

"And what about ghosts? Or invisibility cloaks? Or any number of ways to overhear things without physically being seen because of _magic?"_ Tony was massaging his temples and sighing. "Never mind, this is just...really dangerous, okay kid? You can't just go blabbing about it in the corridors." He paused, looking at Steve and examining him for a few seconds. "Are you the kid who flattened me at the Halloween Feast?"

"I-uh," Steve stammered. "Maybe?"

Tony's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he pointed his wand at Steve's chest. "You supposedly arrived here three days _after_ the feast. So what were you doing falling through the air on the night of the first incident? And why would Snixley lie about you? Are you working for him or something?"

Steve slowly started reaching his hand toward his pocket, ready to defend himself if Stark started hurling spells. "Okay, look. I'm not working for anyone, okay? I'm eleven years old for god's sake."

Tony shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving Steve. "Things don't add up. Tell me the truth before I curse you to London and back," he growled.

Steve took a deep breath. Geez, maybe he _should_ have brought Thor. "I'm from 1942, a stray spell hit me and I was transported seventy years into the future where I landed on top of you. Snixley announced that I was an exchange student while I was in the infirmary. He says it's in my best interest that the entire school doesn't know the truth."

"You do realize how insane that sounds, right?" Tony laughed.

Steve shrugged, glaring at the Ravenclaw. "I can't help that, it's the truth." Tony kept eyeing him suspiciously, refusing to lower his wand. Steve sighed inwardly. "Any way I can prove it to you without taking some veritaserum?"

Tony paused, frowning. "Who took the Quidditch World Cup in 1940?"

"I'm a muggle-born, I didn't know I was a wizard in 1940 let alone follow Quidditch."

"Well that's awfully convenient," Stark muttered. "Fine then. Who was your Potions teacher?"

"Professor Slughorn," Steve shrugged. "He seemed alright for a Slytherin, but he played favorites a lot." Stark nodded, but still didn't lower his wand.

"Okay, and when's your birthday?"

"November 29, 1931," he recited quickly.

Tony nodded again and finally lowered his wand. "Okay. I'll believe you for now, crackpot story as this is."

"You're really paranoid, you know that?" Steve muttered as he eyed the Ravenclaw carefully.

Tony shrugged. "Shut up, Grandpa. How do you know about this, anyways?"

"Um. Thor told me." From the look on Tony's face, Clint's prediction was spot on. Stark was _pissed._ "Look, he was careful about it, okay? I just want to talk to you about telling a teacher. If the headmaster has really gone crazy or whatever, then we need help taking him down."

Tony was already shaking his head before Steve could finish. "No way, it's too dangerous until we know more about what's going on. We don't know if Snixley is working with other people, or even if he's the leader. _Anyone_ could be involved. Teachers, students, house elves for all I know," Tony sighed again.

"But I think we can at least trust Longbo-"

"_No._ Look, you've been here for what, three weeks now? I don't know how things worked back in the good ol' days, but now we need sufficient information before making any potentially life-threatening decisions."

"And how exactly are you going about getting this information?" Steve asked. "Because it would be a lot easier if a teacher knew what was going on."

"Or a lot more deadly," Tony crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Look, I can't believe Thor dragged you into this, but right now you need to sit tight and keep your mouth shut, got it? Or more people could end up getting hurt."

"People are _already_ getting hurt, Stark!" Steve yelled. Why wasn't this guy getting it? "We need help."

"No, we need caution!" Tony yelled back.

A knock at the classroom door caused both boys to freeze, and Steve saw Tony's face loose most of its color. It opened to reveal Professor Johnson standing there, looking slightly worried. "Boys, what is going on in here? I could hear your shouting from down the hallway."

"I, uh, nothing, Professor," Tony said. "We were just arguing about a group project for Coach Gering, weren't we, Steve?"

Steve frowned, but nodded. How much had she heard?

"Well you'd best work it out quickly then. Mister Rogers here will be late for my class if he delays much longer. And I'll be forced to take ten points from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for being in an empty classroom without permission. Sorry, boys," she smiled and continued on her way, leaving the door open.

"Damn," Tony muttered. "I thought I put the muffliato charm on the door. Did I do it wrong...?" He still looked scared, and Steve noticed him clutching his wand in his pocket. That could easily have been the Headmaster, or someone working for him. Hell, Professor Johnson _could_ be working for Snixley for all they knew...and that would be very _very_ bad.

"Okay, I see the need for caution now," Steve spoke in a whisper, trying to ignore how his voice wavered a bit.

"Yeah," Tony swallowed and stared at the empty doorway for a few seconds before turning to Steve. "Watch yourself around her, okay? Just in case."

Steve nodded, and without another word Tony left the room. Steve stood there for a few more seconds, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins from the argument and hopefully-close-call. He then exited the room, walking toward the Astronomy tower.

Professor Johnson didn't act any differently during class, and Steve doubted that she'd heard anything important. Still, he ended up watching her more than the stars. He resolved to tell Thor about the encounter later tonight in their room, but otherwise he'd keep mum.

For now, anyways.


	28. Chapter XXVIII - Pepper

**Okay, I think this is the last boring oh-someone-else-knows-the-plot chapter. Thank you all for reading and please review to let me know your thoughts.**

Pepper couldn't believe what she was hearing.

It had been a total coincidence that she'd seen Stark drag Rogers into an abandoned classroom. She had been at the library trying to put some last minute touches on her star charts, so she'd been late to dinner, when she'd rounded a corner and seen the cocky Ravenclaw pulling the smaller Gryffindor.

Thinking Steve might need some help, she'd naturally listened outside the door to get a handle on the situation. However, the only thing that had accomplished was making her ears feel like they were stuffed full of cotton balls.

She recognized a mufliato spell when she found one. Her mom would _always_ use it when she wanted to discuss "adult matters" without Pepper overhearing.

Luckily, though, one of the first things Pepper had done when she'd arrived at Hogwarts had been to find the counterspell. She'd done it just to spite her mother over winter vacation, maybe discover what a few of her presents were...but it was coming in handy sooner than she'd thought.

She used it on the door, pressing her ear against the old, sturdy wood to hear what was happening inside.

And promptly started wondering just what the hell she'd stumbled onto.

She couldn't hear every word at first - only receiving the general impression that Stark was furious about potential eavesdroppers. Heh. Pepper had to hold back a giggle at the irony.

Then it got quieter, but she could almost _feel_ Stark's anger radiating through the door. That kid needed a stress ball or something. Then Stark and Rogers started arguing about Snixley going insane and needing to tell teachers about it and people getting hurt and-

What was going on?

Before she could bust into the room and throttle some information out of the two boys, Pepper heard the _clip-clop_ of high heels approaching. She quickly ducked behind a nearby statue across the corridor, watching as Professor Johnson approached and knocked on the door.

The Professor appeared to berate the boys, but didn't seem to have heard the contents of their conversation. After she had continued on toward the Astronomy tower, Pepper abandoned her hiding place and walked past the now-open door slowly. The boys' voices sounded shaken and worried, and Stark scurried out right as she was walking past.

Pepper glanced at him and raised her eyebrow, trying to act natural so he wouldn't suspect that she'd been eavesdropping. He just frowned at her and continued on his way. Although Pepper noticed that his shoulders were slumped, and he wasn't whistling this time.

She wanted to confront either him or Steve, but she needed to work around what she had just heard first. Pepper sighed to herself and continued to the Great Hall to snag a quick dinner before the second half of Astronomy. Eating would give her some time to think.

As she quickly chewed her dinner - a mix of whatever was left at the Gryffindor tables - she tried to figure out what she had heard. The boys were obviously in some sort of trouble, and apparently it involved Snixley. And people were "already getting hurt" according to the last thing she'd heard Rogers say.

Did they mean emotionally hurt? No, they were too agitated for that. Physically hurt then. But there hadn't been any serious injuries except for the two spell mishaps in the Great Hall.

Did they honestly think the headmaster had something to do with that?

And how did they know in the first place? Were _they_ the ones who cast the spells? She couldn't see Rogers intentionally hurting his classmates, even the Slytherins. Stark, maybe, but not Rogers.

Pepper sighed quietly to herself as she washed her dinner down with a few swallows of orange soda. She needed to get a second opinion on this.

"Hey, I thought I'd find you here. C'mon, we gotta hurry or we're going to be late for Astronomy. Not that Johnson would notice, but still..." Victoire muttered as she came up behind Pepper, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, can't a girl eat around here?" she muttered jokingly as she stood up. She decided to tell Victoire later, when they were alone. As much as she wanted to talk to her friend now, she didn't want the entire Great Hall to hear.

They walked off to Astronomy together, comparing star charts along the way and trying to figure out how anyone could think that Cassiopeia looked like a queen. Pepper would forever only be able to see a sideways W.

It took all of her willpower not to interrogate Rogers during class, especially once Professor Johnson started staring at the stars for about 2/3 of class. Whatever was going on, Pepper didn't think that Steve was the one in charge - Stark was. At least, that was the impression that she'd gotten.

As soon as Johnson had snapped out of her trance and dismissed them - with homework to chart Jupiter's movements for the next week, _yay -_ Pepper dragged Victoire back to their dorm room, accidentally insulting the Portrait Lady when they didn't stop to chat.

"Pepper, slow _down,"_ Victoire pleaded with her as she sprinted up the stairs. "What's your rush? The only thing waiting for us is a Potions essay."

"I just...hang on," Pepper muttered as she shut the door to their room. "Okay, I heard something before dinner and I need a second opinion on it."

"Okay," she said, giving Pepper a strange look. but still sitting down on her bed and giving her her full attention.

"Okay." Pepper took a deep breath to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I heard Stark and Rogers talking, and I think they're involved in something really bad. They were saying something about the headmaster being crazy and maybe hurting students, and I don't know what's going on Victoire."

"Snixley hurting students?" Victoire laughed. "You must've misheard, the man is like a giant pygmypuff."

"No, I didn't mishear. They were definitely worried about him hurting people, and they sounded pretty freaked out." And so was Pepper, apparently. She'd just realized that she'd been extremely close to yelling.

"Okay sweetie," Victoire soothed. "You said Rogers, right? As in Steve? As in the guy who's probably hanging out with Thor in the common room right now. We can just go down and talk to him about it, right? Get to the bottom of this?" she said softly, trying to calm Pepper down.

She shrugged. "Maybe, but I think Stark's the one in the middle of it."

"You sure this isn't just your vendetta against him talking?" Victoire smirked.

"_No._ I don't have a vendetta against him, he just rubs me the wrong way," Pepper grumbled. "And I really think he's the one who knows what's going on - Steve seemed to be trying to convince him of something, but Stark had the final word."

"Okay, so do you want to talk to Stark? Or do you think we should go to a teacher? If they're involved in something nasty, a professor should know about it."

Pepper shook her head. "That's what they were arguing about, I think." She paused for a few seconds before nodding her head decisively. "Yeah, let's go to Stark before telling a teacher."

Victoire nodded in agreement. "Alright. We'll get to the bottom of this, don't worry." Pepper smiled in thanks, thinking for what had to be the millionth time about how lucky she was to have Victoire as a friend. "We can ask Miranda in the morning when to catch Stark alone. Now, about this Potions essay. Do you have any idea what Umbridge was talking about with how to prepare Asphodel?"

They buckled down and started working on their homework, somehow managing to finish their essays in record time. Pepper calmed down after a few minutes, focusing on her work, confident that they'd be able to bully Stark into telling them what was going on.

They'd get to the bottom of this no matter what.


End file.
